


Unease Surrounds Us

by FantabulousAss



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, F/F, Forced Pregnancy, M/M, Magical Pregnancy, Mild Language, Mpreg, NaNoWriMo, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vore?, attempted nanowrimo, don't look too close at the pregnancy this is based on a dream, dream vore, it's not as bad as it sounds, mentions of weight gain, there's no real reason Will should be pregnant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:15:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27865953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantabulousAss/pseuds/FantabulousAss
Summary: Hannibal and Will have made it. They're out of the US, far from Europe and ready to start a life all their own, away from the prying eyes of the FBI. Hannibal keeps up his habit, while helping Will find new ones and heal. After a year of bliss, Will falls pregnant and doesn't quite know how to handle it. He doesn't want the child, but of course, Hannibal does, saying this is their chance to finally have a family.
Relationships: Alana Bloom/Margot Verger, Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So if you read the tags, this is based on a dream I had before I had even finished Hannibal, which I still haven't but I did happen to ruin the ending for myself while writing this so oops to me lol. This was my first attempt at NaNoWriMo and I didn't hit 50,000 words, but I think 30,000 is satisfying for my first attempt at a fic based on a weird ass dream. This is my first time writing mpreg in a long time and I really hope you enjoy it!

They stood in Will’s Virginia home, exhausted from running, from stress, from doing everything they could to get away safely. Hannibal was trying to convince Will to run away with him yet again, promising safety and comfort in the way he hadn’t before. “No more games,” He was quiet, as he spoke, bringing calm to Will’s raw nerves as they stood there, together, in this home with no lights on, the cold seeping in from a broken window in the pitch black of a moonless night.

“The change of environment will be good for you… for us.” Hannibal’s strong hands rubbing Will’s shoulders brought him back to his home, back into the house that, despite the fresh, cold air, had the vague scent of a dog, enough to be comforting, but not overbearing. He shivered as the scent of snow, cold and outside started to burn the inside of his sinuses as it carried the scent of Will’s Home out of the area.

One of said dogs bumped his hand and he rubbed a silken ear comfortingly. It, too, helped ground him. They were no longer in Europe, no longer being held by the FBI, no longer a prisoner of Mason Verger, no longer on the run, no longer in immediate danger, they were as free as two souls in Virginia could be.

“The house is bigger than this… ranch style, no stairs, no basement. Canada has beautiful lakes, you have been ice fishing before, right?” Will leaned slightly back into Hannibal, not quite touching, but letting the deepness in his voice roll in his ears and slink down his spine, helping hold him up as they stood stock-still in the place Will had called home for so long. Was he ready to give his home up? Was he ready to relocate his pack? His whole life? Was he really ready to trust Hannibal?

Long fingers finally reached his free hand, startling him with their warmth. He turned and mapped Hannibal’s face, searching out those light brown eyes and holding them for a moment, before looking back down, clearing his throat and nodding. “Banff sounds great, Hannibal. I just wonder how you-,”

“Do not worry about me.” He practically cooed, hand leaving Will’s to cup the back of his head, hand again startling him with its warmth as his hand curved, heel of his hand brushing his cheek, his fingers settled in his hair, lightly entangling themselves in the curls at the nape of Will’s neck. “I chose Banff for a reason, and we will be just outside the city, to the south. I think you will like the house I have chosen. There is a barn, just like here, for you to work on cars, boats if you’d like, your truck… whatever strikes your fancy. There are plenty of areas in the house to choose for making lures. There is a sunroom, it gets a lot of light. There is a lot of property for the dogs to run.”

Their eyes met again, and Will glanced away and rubbed his dog’s ear, knowing exactly what his answer would be, though not yet finding the words to say it. He should’ve expected Hannibal to have already found and bought a home. Hannibal had always been two steps ahead, realizing when they were still in Europe, possibly even before, that they would need a permanent place to live, to settle, a place far away from the trauma they had both lived through and caused, a place where they could live out their days and heal as best they could.

They were very close, Will realized, winter coats making soft noises as they breathed together, breath puffing between them in the freezing cold house. He could smell the slight spice in the cologne Hannibal wore, and closed his eyes as he closed the distance between them, settling his forehead on Hannibal’s chest, feeling Hannibal tighten his grip around him and settle his chin lightly on Will’s head. He appreciated Hannibal’s foresight and nodded, head settled against Hannibal’s maroon scarf. “Yes. Banff sounds perfect.”

Hannibal couldn’t help the small smile that touched his lips. He felt Will shiver and pressed his lips to the crown of his head, feeling satisfied that he had known exactly what Will needed.

`~`

The move had been stressful, despite the fact that Will didn’t have many possessions that he cared to bring with him. The majority of the items in the back of his truck were the dogs’ items and them in their crates, while the cabin was full of the items that Will  _ did _ want to bring. Riding up had been icy, and Will knew the dogs shared his sentiment of just wanting to be home.

Being home, though, and feeling at home were two different things. Hannibal had flown, choosing to get their new house together as much as he could before Will and the dogs got there. Hannibal had already decorated the large dining room, kitchen, living room and their shared bedroom to his tastes, leaving the large sunroom and one of the other bedrooms to Will to decorate and make his own.

True to Hannibal’s word, though, there was a barn outside, in much better repair than Will’s had been. It was a little stuffy, warmer than the wind outside, and the tall stacks of hay bales gave the whole area a wonderful, earthy smell. He knew this was where he’d be spending the warmer months, and he could almost see himself using the land to raise animals, though he could never see himself owning pigs.

It could be a small hobby farm, with fresh vegetables and meat, he could bring home fish, cook it and serve it in time for Hannibal to come home from wherever he went, whether to work or to hunt, and they could have dinner together. He was no gourmand, and he knew Hannibal would  _ never _ let him take over the kitchen completely, but he knew how to gut and cook a fish, knew how to clean up after himself, and most importantly, he had Hannibal to teach him for the more advanced techniques he didn’t know.

Once Will came back inside, still bundled up to shield him from the bitter cold, he said to Hannibal, who was pulling some form of undoubtedly expensive roast meat from the oven, “What do you think of having a small farm?”

Hannibal took the oven mitts from his hands and smiled at Will, left eye crinkling as he drank in the sight of him, face flushed from the bitter wind and hair only kept neat by the forest green hat he wore over his ears and curls. “Inspired already?” He’d known this place would be good for Will, knew the upgrade would be well worth the price and the stress of relocation.

Will nodded, curls bouncing with the motion, “never had a real farm…” He breathed it like a confession, though his flush didn’t change in color. He’d always been too busy, before. With the FBI, and then with Walter and Molly, he’d just never had a chance to really own and grow a farm.

Hannibal chuckled and glanced at the timer for the gravy, a few minutes left to tease his Will. “I’m not sure, this isn’t a farmhouse, is it?”

Predictably, Will’s face fell, and he nodded, taking a long look around the beautiful kitchen that nearly mirrored Hannibal’s Baltimore home. It was sleeker this time, rich dark wood meeting exquisitely with the sparkling steel of brand new appliances. It almost felt more like a professional kitchen, whereas Hannibal’s Baltimore kitchen had looked slightly patched together, as though the house had been a home first and kitchen fit to be an entertainment center after. This felt put together in a way the other kitchen hadn’t. Will could almost call it beautiful, and Hannibal preened under the appreciation he knew Will had for his style, for the elegance he was able to bring to a home in so little time, even if the younger said nothing about it.

The house had been left empty for a long time, and a good amount of money had gone into renovating both it and the barn outside. Hannibal had lamented being unable to keep an eye over construction, but he had to admit, the home was in impeccable shape after the renovations, and both he and Will were impressed.

“Although,” Hannibal amended, turning to stir the thickening gravy, “I suppose if you can keep my entryway clean, and shower in the guest shower when you are particularly dirty, there can be some compromise.”

Despite not watching Will’s face, Hannibal knew he was grinning. “Now, Will, dinner is almost ready, wash up and we’ll eat.”

`~`

Winter seemed to last half the year, but Will appreciated that winter for the change it brought in his and Hannibal’s relationship. Will had placed a couch, one that didn’t fit with Hannibal’s furniture but was incredibly comfortable, in the sun room along with his lure making supplies and work station. That winter, they often sat on the couch together, watching that bitter, angry wind whip the trees around in the warmth and safety their new home brought them, usually with warm drinks in hand.

Initially, Hannibal had been after Will almost every day, begging for some reprieve from the dog fur that coated every room, but Will had to laugh at him. “Never had dogs before? There’ll be fur everywhere they’re allowed.” After that, Hannibal had forbade the dogs from getting up on any couch other than Will’s, and decided they were absolutely not allowed at all in the kitchen. He even talked about making them sleep in the barn.

After much coaxing and calming, Will had convinced Hannibal to get a couple of Roombas, with the promise that he would empty them out and make sure they kept the house clean. That had satisfied Hannibal, and so, the dogs stayed inside.

Winter was an easier time for Hannibal to gather his favorite ingredients, as more tourists tended to go missing in the winter months, and very few were ever found, much less alive. Hannibal had found it difficult, at first, to not leave a scene, to not paint the picture of his victims, but soon settled into his hunter’s persona, pretending he was in a grand, sophisticated and technologically advanced play, easily projecting himself to be the hero, providing his lover with food for an unreasonably tough season. They ate well that winter, Will still unable to make peace with what they were eating, but finding pretending more and more attractive than truly coming to terms with that particular reality, knowing Hannibal would never stop.

Spring came on its own time, and as the air warmed up, they spent afternoons on their porch, listening to that same wind that had blown so fiercely in the winter, gently stirring the proud conifers and other trees that slowly woke from their winter’s nap.

As true springtime settled in, Will purchased a small flock of ducks, geese and chickens. They were the easiest to start off with, Will had explained, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to jump right into owning a fully functioning barnyard. Hannibal had only smiled and let him keep talking, revelling in part to the success of his patient, and in another, the joy his lover seemed to carry everywhere, all because of his own foresight.

Hannibal had taken a position at a nearby college, as a History of Psychology professor, taking care to honor Will’s wishes that he do so fairly, and with minimal murder. That part had been said in a joking manner, but Hannibal knew that Will meant it. Luckily, no one had had to die for Hannibal’s position to be secured, and he was able to sink right into the role, settling in and teaching as if he’d been doing it his whole life.

Will was taking time from working to focus on his mental health, and getting the farm to be semi-functional. He planned on purchasing baby goats in late spring, once it warmed up a touch more, and he wanted the fences to be as secure as could be. Working outside, Hannibal had realized, had a profoundly positive effect on Will’s mental health and as long as he was happy, Hannibal had no quarrel being the one to bring in the money.

So far, the barn was Will’s and the dogs’ favorite place to be. The sweet scent of hay along with the amicably warm, darkened atmosphere only lit with the bright bulb of the heat lamps each of the new additions needed, the sweet sound of poultry bonding, swimming and eating was among the most restful environments he could imagine.

It was hard to remember a time he’d felt this content. Surely, before working with the FBI. He’d enjoyed working with Jack, recognized his role had been important, but by the end, he’d become too ensnared, too involved. It had gone beyond the FBI, gotten horribly personal, and often, he would wake up next to Hannibal irritated, and sleep for the rest of the night in the other bedroom, annoyed at the dreams that continued to haunt him, even now. The stag still made appearances in his dreams, chasing him slowly and steadily, until it was on top of him, choking him awake. Once, he even dreamed the stag was there holding his hands in place, chest pressed intimately to his back, as he strangled a faceless man, realizing in the waking world it was probably Hobbs yet again. It had been unsettling and too-familiar in all the worst ways, the stag’s hands on his almost feeling like a new lover teaching their partner to play billiards.

Hannibal never mentioned the mornings he woke up to a cold, damp bed unless he felt Will wanted to talk about it. The feeling was rare, and while he was sure he could help Will through this, it was ultimately up to Will to start the conversation. Once he started the conversation, he could carefully steer as much pressure off of Will as he could, while also keeping it off himself.

As the year progressed, however, Will found himself having less nightmares, seeing the eldritch nightmare that was the black stag less and less, until springtime and his medications seemed to shed sunlight on it one too many times. The vice-grip that panic had had on his throat was gone, replaced completely by affection rather than disdain or hatred, for Hannibal. Seeing Hannibal was now a comfort, rather than a moment of fright, before having to calm himself down. Spending time with Hannibal came easier and easier, until he realized he felt safe enough in Hannibal’s space to rest his head against Hannibal’s thighs, and let those fingers run themselves through his curls, massaging his scalp.

Summer came and gave Will the great pleasure of seeing Hannibal in lighter colored, short sleeved silks, showing off leanly muscled arms, and shorts, straight, neat hair always perfectly coiffed, all hilariously out of place among the dirt and chaos on Will’s farm. The banter between them grew easier and easier, especially in the barn, which was a favorite of Hannibal’s as well, especially the more time they spent in there together, alone.

Previously, being intimate had been rough, angry. Will was taking back control over himself, his mind and his libido, and Hannibal was happy to allow him to take the lead. He was understandably less than enthused when Will would stop, and they would have to stop, and they would each spend the rest of the night alone. Hannibal took every tender moment in, enjoyed the feeling of Will’s trust, finally his again.

His favorite was when Will turned over, took those stormy, beautiful, accusing eyes off him, and allowed Hannibal to set the pace, preferring to sink into the covers and groan, covering his eyes completely, and handing all control to Hannibal. He loved teasing, loved relearning all of Will’s little noises, loved coaxing new movements out of him, loved switching things up on him, starting the dance in the barn, using Will’s shirt as a mat on the hay, which as sweet as it smelled, was itchy as hell when laying on it.

He loved making sure Will knew he appreciated his body, adored mapping the planes of Will’s abdomen, staying clear of the scar he’d put there, taking stock of every nook and cranny, memorizing every mole and freckle. Above all else, he loved biting Will’s neck, making marks and making sure anyone who looked at Will knew he was taken. The fact that Will left the house rarely if ever without hanging off Hannibal's arm made no difference to the older man, and in fact only increased his desire to let everyone know who exactly this beautiful boy belonged to.

They made public appearances rarely, but with things that both of them could enjoy. While Will wasn’t overly fond of opera, he did enjoy theater, and while Will enjoyed the humor in so many plays, Hannibal enjoyed the expertise of the band, the music being played, the quality of the costuming, silently critiquing the color palette more than the actual story, in the case that it wasn’t as interesting as the setting of it. They had many conversations where Will had realized Hannibal hadn’t been paying attention to the plot, and poked gentle fun at him for being too pompous to enjoy anything that wasn’t every bit cultured.

Hannibal had tried to contest, saying the particular play they’d seen just wasn’t for him, but for once, it was Will winning that argument, especially as they attended more recent comedies and less classical tales.

As summer bled quickly into fall, Will harvested the vegetables, mostly the pumpkins and acorn squash he had planted in early summer. Breads, roasted vegetables and soups accompanied heavy meats, both human and animal. Will had found time to fish since none of their livestock was ready for slaughter. Hannibal actually suspected Will was too soft-hearted to slaughter any of his flock, and the herd of goats were at an odd in-between age.

While the air got colder, and turned more bitter, Will mentioned to Hannibal that it had almost been a year since they’d moved up over a dinner of what Will pretended was roast beef and butternut squash stew with a deep red cabernet. “And,” Hannibal asked, “are you happier here? Was Banff a good choice?”

Will smiled, placing a tender piece of stewed butternut squash in his mouth and chewing, savoring the sage and salt of the broth, the bit of brown sugar Hannibal had sprinkled on top before roasting lightly on its own, only drawing out the sweetness of the fruit in his bowl. “As if you have to ask.”

“I am only checking in, Will. I like to know for certain if this is the correct environment for you.” Hannibal took a bite. Once he swallowed, he nodded to Will again, this time placing his fork and knife in what Will assumed were their proper places. “Are you happier here than you were in Virginia?”

Will shrugged. “That’s a difficult question. I’m happier in different ways; more fulfilled, for sure.” He eyed his cabernet and picked up the glass, taking a sip as Hannibal watched. “Yes, Hannibal, of course I am.”

Hannibal raised his own glass in a small toast, having known the answer, but wanting to hear Will confirm it. “Then, to Banff.”

Will raised his as well and nodded. “To Banff.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal brings up marriage, they host a party and Will has a dream.

As he had when they’d first arrived, Hannibal found ingredients much easier in winter, and had a gentleman that he’d actually taught earlier that year bring him lamb. They were to host a small party for Hannibal’s new colleagues, and Will was nervous. He hadn’t seen many people for nearly a year, and now their home was going to be full of strangers. He would have to shut his dogs in the bedroom he used to sleep in.

Hannibal assured Will that they were all wonderful people, as he refused to invite anyone who would annoy him. His murderous party days were over, over as soon as he’d left Italy. He peppered assurances between kisses as Will laid in bed, pressing kiss after tender kiss to the soft, sensitive skin of Will’s neck, just behind his ear and even one of his eyes. He swung his leg over Will and got up with ease, one more promise on his lips, “they’ll behave. I told them we were married last year and we wanted someone to celebrate our anniversary with.”

Will gaped, scrambling out of the bed and following after Hannibal into the bathroom, sputtering as he thought of the notion. Him. Married again, but this time to Hannibal. It wasn’t as ridiculous a notion as it was before, they were certainly close enough, but Hannibal hadn’t even spoken to him about wanting to be married, had never asked. “Married?” Will finally managed to stutter out, watching as Hannibal started to wash his face, hating the smugness he saw there.

“We have been together for a long time, things have been well, I figured it was the natural step.” Hannibal smiled inwardly at Will’s wide eyes, and sudden pallor. While he loved Will, adored the man, he was still proud that he could cause such a reaction, that he was still five steps ahead without the brunet even knowing. “Unless you’d like a divorce?”

Hannibal watched Will’s expression in the mirror, watching his eyes narrow. “Hard to get divorced if we aren’t married. You never even asked, Hannibal, we don’t have rings, and  _ you never even asked _ .”

“Then I suppose I am asking now.” He said it so casually, as he rubbed soap on his face, that Will just stood there.

He stood there until Hannibal waved his hand for a towel, handing him a slate gray cloth as he continued to stare at Hannibal’s face, as attractive as it was smug, even dripping with water. “What do you say, Graham?”

“I say, I fucking hate you, Dr. Hannibal Lector, but of course I want to marry you, bastard.”

Hannibal kissed him, then, and gave a gentle squeeze to his hip bone. “Get in the shower, we have to get you fitted for a suit.”

`~`

In his suit that Hannibal had directed the tailor in perfect Italian for,  _ where Hannibal had found an Italian tailor in the middle of rural Canada, Will had no idea _ , he felt silly, but the way Hannibal’s eyes met his across the room gave him different ideas of what the Lithuanian man felt about him in that suit.

They were the perfect hosts, definitely helped by the fact that there were only four additional people there. It was a small enough group that Will felt comfortable enough to talk without Hannibal’s help, though he couldn’t help but feel slightly out of his league. While he’d worked at the FBI, training new recruits himself, he was unused to the poise these other professors held themselves with. He’d never conversated with other professors at his last position, and wasn’t versed in the same literature Hannibal was.

He didn’t like the way one of the men looked at Hannibal, lazily appreciating his suit, lingering too long trying to meet his eyes, all the while listening too intently to every word Hannibal spoke. How many of Hannibal’s colleagues had done the same?

As they sat down, the guests complimented the fish, and seemed impressed when Hannibal announced that Will had caught it just the day before. He could see the understanding light in their eyes as they looked over to him to praise him.

Hannibal watched as Will ducked his head in a slight nod, and that delicious flush returned to his cheeks. He looked practically edible just the way he was. The suit, with its subtle hints of maroon, and not a single dog fur on it, lit up his blue eyes and dark brown hair perfectly. He’d gotten a small haircut, enough to tighten his curls, but not enough to tame them completely. Will looked like a man who would never put up with Hannibal, how finicky he was, how haughty he was, despite the fact that he was dressed exquisitely. Being dressed in clothes that Hannibal had picked out himself, to make sure Will was as presentable as he could possibly be without taking anything away from the Will Graham he adored and admired so dearly. He could see his coworkers silently judging Will, wondering how they fit together and how they came to be. With Hannibal’s praise, they could suddenly see. The refined professor with the well dressed but untamed younger man. The notion was laughable but exactly what Hannibal had expected from the busybodies. Without the praise from the press, he took what little pleasure he could from office gossip.

Hannibal, to his credit, watched all who partook in the other protein of the night, a variation of kidney pie, watching his guests’ reactions, pleasure easing his face as he watched their faces relax and contort as each flavor danced across their faces. Busybodies they may be, but he had made sure all of his guests would appreciate a finer dining experience.

At the end of the night, everyone sufficiently full and satisfied, compliments being thrown Hannibal’s way as the guests left, Will silently joined Hannibal at the door. Hannibal smiled as Will placed a hand on the hip opposite to him, underneath his waistcoat and overcoat. “Did you enjoy dinner?” He asked as he closed the ornate oak door.

Will nodded, pinky slipping between Hannibal’s dress shirt and pants, widening his hold on Hannibal’s hip, but keeping his light touch and non-possessive. “It was… good.”

“But?” Hannibal heard the hesitation in Will’s voice and turned, feeling Will’s grip on his hip loosen to settle on his back.

“But I couldn’t keep my eyes off you all night. As it happens, I don’t think I like sharing you with anyone.” Will’s hands found Hannibal’s hips and brought him close enough for a kiss. Hannibal’s hand cupped Will’s face, glad that he hadn’t made Will shave his soft, almost-a-beard-stubble, and tilted it up, deepening the kiss and bringing Will closer with his other hand on the small of his back.

Cleaning up the table was the last thing on his mind as they made their way to the bedroom, shedding layers as they went. Hannibal unbuttoned the last button on Will’s shirt and helped it glide off his body, and settle onto the bed, crumpled where his legs were pressed flush to the mattress.

Will sat, smirking up at Hannibal and undoing his pants button and yanking the expensive suit’s trousers down. He was happy with what he found, Hannibal’s cock straining against his silk boxers at half-mast, plumping up but not yet fully erect.

He got to work, bringing the boxers down and taking Hannibal in, knowing Hannibal loved the way he sounded as he swallowed his dick.

One of Hannibal’s hands found Will’s curls, pulling them as his hand clenched. His other hand found Will’s shoulder, and as much as it pained him to do so, he pushed Will off his prick and shook his head, “Not tonight, Will. You were such a good boy at dinner tonight… It’s time for  _ your _ reward.” The sight of him, eyes blown nearly black, panting, thighs trembling as his cock rose with the praise, a bit of spit and precome dangling off his lip, made Hannibal  _ horribly _ selfish, wishing he had let the little slut continue, suck him dry, left to get himself off while Hannibal floated in the bliss Will always sent him to.

But no, he spoke the truth. He wanted to reward Will for tonight; for playing the perfect young husband, for giving his colleagues plenty to gossip about.

So, he grabbed the lube from their bedside table, and motioned for Will to flip over. Obedient as the dogs he trained, Will obeyed, shimmying his dress pants down to reveal his own pair of silk underwear. He was glad he’d managed to coax Will to wear them, they slid down over his ass and thighs much easier than the dress pants had.

Hannibal whispered as he worked Will open, “You were such a good boy tonight. Made me so proud.” They rocked together, with the rhythm of Hannibal’s fingers inside Will. “Good boys get good rewards, don’t they, Will?”

Will keened, the small, needy noise making Hannibal’s cock jump. He loved how helpless Will was for him, loved how easy it was to make Will a quivering mess. He loved the power he had over the younger man, loved knowing  _ exactly _ how to make him come undone.

Their rhythm slowed as Hannibal gave himself a few quick strokes, noticing that Will was doing the same, “Slow down, Will.” He commanded, smacking Will’s ass.

Will gasped and unhanded himself, looking back at Hannibal and bumping his ass into his thighs. “I’m waiting for my reward.” He whined, drawing a smirk out of Hannibal, who rubbed the pink handmark he’d left.

Luckily, Will needn’t wait any longer. Their rhythm continued, this time accompanied by the sound of slapping skin. It didn’t take Hannibal long to come, the feeling of Hannibal’s release triggering Will’s own. He had gone back to stroking himself, the overstimulation painful and delicious all in one.

They both panted as they settled into the bed, with Hannibal still inside. His hand rested on Will’s abdomen, for once not shying away from the scar he’d placed there. He rubbed the area, imagining for the moment that they could have a child, could really play house, have a little family out in the woods. He smiled at the thought, Will all round and pregnant, with a daughter who looked just a little bit like Abigail, but younger, and  _ theirs _ . The child could be  _ their design _ .

He sighed, pulled out of Will and rubbed his hip. “Get into your pajamas and let the dogs out. The table can wait until morning.”

`~`

Winter raged on as the days passed and they found themselves doing exactly what they’d done last year, spending time together, drinking warm drinks and watching as the bitter wind whipped snow and the trees around, talking softly about future plans and the nightmares Will still had. His dreams were still vivid enough to have him questioning everything that happened within them, but now they shifted back towards the affection he’d felt for Abigail, the ache of missing her, missing Walter. He wouldn’t call them nightmares, but he wasn’t sure what else he should call them.

Regardless of his dreams, Will felt the weighted warmth of content in the pit of his stomach every day. He was sure Hannibal was seeing a different man than the burdened, depressed man he’d originally fallen in love with.

Oddly enough, though, a few mornings out of the week, he found himself taking a break from caring for the animals in the barn to throw up outside. The pain had surprised him the most, the twisting and turning of his gut being a complete surprise, until his breakfast came up, hot and acidic, onto the ground in front of him. The first day he thought it was weird, but didn’t mention it to Hannibal, thinking it would be silly to be worried about a sickness the first day of it.

After the second and third days, however, when the sickness, making him exhausted and woozy, was strong enough to keep him in bed after the animals were cared for, he brought it up with Hannibal. “I think I’m getting anxious again,” he said over dinner.

Hannibal tilted his head slightly to the side, eyes affixed to Will, their expression unreadable. He’d noticed Will looking tired lately, and had figured he’d just been having more vivid dreams. “Why do you say that? Is it the vomiting?”

Will nodded and shrugged his shoulder, staring down at the pasta with sausage before him. “It’s just in the morning, though.”

A tickle started in Hannibal’s chest as he thought again of having a family. “Could it be morning sickness? You aren’t on any birth control.”

Will felt all the air leave his lungs. “I… I don’t know. Maybe.” The room seemed miles away in that moment, as his hand slowly made its way to his stomach.  _ Could _ he be pregnant? He supposed, but… That was too fast. Why now?

“Calm your breathing, Will. Don’t hyperventilate.” Hannibal was behind him, and rubbed Will’s shoulders, massaging them as Will glanced up. “It’s alright.”

Of course Hannibal was calm. Hannibal was always two steps ahead. Had Hannibal been trying to get Will pregnant? “I told you to relax, Will.” His tone was authoritative, doctor to unruly patient.

Despite the panic that had started constricting his throat, he breathed, deep breaths helping even out his pulse. “What are we going to do, Hannibal? We can’t be  _ parents _ … not of a baby, anyway.”

The words stung as they left his mouth. Hannibal sighed, “You don’t even know if you are pregnant, Will. Let’s get that settled before we start panicking, hm?”

As Hannibal’s thumb found his neck, Will found himself sighing as well. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.”

`~`

_ “Come now, darling, this will be so much easier if you at least try not to squirm.” Hannibal’s face, calm and even above him, greatly contrasted the activity they were partaking in. _

_ Hannibal loomed over Will, whose head sat serenely in his lap, lovingly rubbing his jaw as he yanked Will’s teeth out, one by one, showing him the bloody roots of each tooth as it finally slid out of his stubborn gums. Luckily, it didn’t hurt, but his tongue kept darting back, feeling the deep, gushing holes in his gums and swallowing buckets of blood. It felt foreign and nostalgic all in one, bringing back buried memories of feeling his baby teeth pop out and being left with soft, gummy holes, and a slight ache when he had done it too fast and rushed to rip out the little bones, all for the promise of two whole quarters. _

_ “This is for your own good, you understand?” Hannibal asked as he studied Will’s canine, dull from age and grinding his teeth at night. It might’ve been just the light, but Will could swear Hannibal wore an impressive set of antlers. “You are slowly decaying. We have to get the source of the rot out. It doesn’t hurt, does it?” _

_ Despite his claims, from what Will could see, his teeth looked fine. Maybe it was just to Will’s untrained eye, then. _

_ He was oddly calm, even as Hannibal ripped out the teeth along his smile line. There were always dentures, right? _

_ Once Hannibal was done, he got up, dropping Will’s head on the cushion below, placing all of the liberated teeth in a jar and clinking them together. Will ran his tongue over the holes his teeth had left, now that the bleeding was slowing. Then he mashed his gums together, testing the feel of having no teeth left. It felt weird, but surely, it could be worse. There were always dentures. _

_ He lay there for only god knows how long, mashing his gums and even reaching inside his mouth with a curious finger to investigate. Hannibal came back, picked him up, feeling impossibly large, as he held Will gently to his chest, rubbing his back and calming him as Will realized why Hannibal was so huge. _

_ He was a baby. Baby sized, and baby proportioned, he was being held like a baby and being taken back to a crib, outfitted with red and black flannel and tons of dog stuffies. He screamed, then, upset that there had been no rot, only age regression. _

_ Hannibal chuckled and cooed at him, “Oh it’s alright, Will. You will be okay. The rot is gone, we just have to wait for the rest of your body to catch up, now. Do not worry one bit, I will be right here to help you.” _

_ Will kept screaming, attempting words, but slowly realizing that his little baby mouth refused to make the correct movements. He didn’t want help, he tried to scream, he wanted to be an adult again, beating his meaty little baby fists against Hannibal’s lapel, shoulders, anywhere Will could possibly reach. He screamed, he cried, he sobbed, but when Hannibal’s hand, large and warm, comforting despite the situation. Will’s fury turned into fear, his screams turned into trembles as Hannibal comforted, surprising him with his patience, bringing him to sweet stillness with his usual poise and unexpected coziness. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is pregnant, he's dreaming horrible things... so he phones a friend.

Test after test came back positive, but Will refused to believe it until he went to the doctor, and she came back with a positive blood test. He was pregnant. Completely, undeniably pregnant.

Hannibal was oddly cheerful, wearing a smile more often than not, now with the knowledge that Will was definitely with child. Will, on the other hand, was not as enthused with the idea.

He had meant it when he said they couldn’t be parents. Their life was so perfect the way it was, why bring in something else? He had the physical responsibilities of the farm, his animals, he couldn’t carry a child, not full term! Hannibal wouldn’t take care of the animals the way he did. Speaking of, Hannibal still murdered, still cannibalized, knew Will didn’t want to pass on any of his genes, that he thought it was irresponsible.

Speaking of genes… it was one thing to adopt the child of a murderer and raise her the way Hannibal saw fit, it was quite another to bring a child of their own into an already perfect, peaceful life. The child,  _ god _ , what would it be like?

Hannibal was having similar thoughts, wondering what his future child would be like, knowing Will didn’t want to keep it, but also knowing he could convince him. It would be difficult to convince Will, given all of his conceptions about genes and parenting in general, but when was anything they chose to do easy? He wondered if the child would have his straight hair or Will’s beautiful curls; blue eyes or light brown? His own refined tastes for art or a taste for fishing and animals?

They also wondered which of its fathers would it take after? Sweet, sensitive, empathetic Will? If it took after its younger parent, it would surely live a life similar to Will, experience the same pain and suffering its carrier had. It would live a life aiming to please, willing to be exploited in exchange for helping people, for satisfying every morbid curiosity… but no. They could steer the child in the right direction. If the child was more like Hannibal, there would be no need to steer. Certainly it would crave the violence of its father, crave the same sophisticality, what would they do then? Undoubtedly it would be a better environment than giving the child up and unleashing it on an unsuspecting public...

“Will,” Hannibal placed a hand on Will’s back and gave him a small, conspiratory smile. “If we have this child, we’ll be a  _ family _ again, the way we could have been with Abigail-,”

“She isn’t here, Hannibal. You killed her. We’ll never have Abigail back.” Will turned to glare up at Hannibal, who raised his palms and lowered them.

“I did not mean to insinuate that the child would be a replacement Abigail, Will, forgive me.” Hannibal sighed and had the audacity to look  _ guilty _ . He supposed Will hadn’t forgiven him for that yet.

Will clicked his tongue and shook his head, “We can’t have a kid, Hannibal. I don’t want to pass on-,”

“You worry too much.” Hannibal smoothed Will’s hair with his hand. “We will be okay.”

Will was thinking he hadn’t worried enough, hadn’t been careful enough. Just because he hadn’t gotten pregnant earlier didn’t mean it was impossible. Clearly. He felt like an idiot. “I have the animals to look after. I can’t lift the hay bales nine months pregnant with a belly out to here, Hannibal.”

The idea of his soft, sweet Will with exactly that, a beautiful pregnant belly stuck all the way out there caused an involuntary smile to grace Hannibal’s lips, honey slow. “That would be a sight,” He mused, “My little farmer, plump and pregnant as one of his goats… That is it, Will. I will start setting up doctor’s visits and move the bed in our guest bedroom.”

_ ‘How dare he?!’ _ Anger sputtered and then died in Will’s chest. He didn’t have the energy to fight with Hannibal, not when he got this way, this stubborn. He supposed he would just have to talk to someone else, someone with a different perspective, someone he knew would help nudge him in the right direction.

`~`

_ He stood outside, in the bright whiteness of a full moon in winter, the crushing silence of freshly fallen blanket of snow almost comforting as he looked around, barefoot but not feeling the sting that came with being on a ground that was too cold. The stag stood in front of him, eyes illuminated by the moonlight, body pitchblack and completely still, looking almost as if it were planted there in the snow. _

_ He was unsure of where they were, the landscape was all black, dark as ink and pure white, except the full moon above, slightly blue in the harshness of its light. _

_ Will’s breath puffed in front of him, but no breath came from the stag. It was more humanoid here, staring him down, trying to communicate something Will couldn’t understand. It wanted something from him, he knew that much, but he wasn’t sure what it could possibly be. _

_ “Say something!” He screamed. The stag did nothing, didn’t move, didn’t even look away; not until Will blinked and the creature was in front of him, holding his hands, slicking them up with blood, black as tar in the bright, bright moonlight. _

_ He couldn’t move, could barely breathe as more blood dripped through his fingertips and down his arms. It was warm, and each drop that hit his bare feet made him twitch. His breath stuttered as the stag stared him down, fiercely wanting  _ **_something_ ** _ from him but never saying exactly what it was. He hated this, hated the standoff, hated the eye contact, hated how close they were. It was suffocating,  _ **_Will_ ** _ was suffocating. _

_ With a burst of energy, he wrenched his arms out of the stag’s grasp and turned, anxiety gripping his lungs now that he was unable to see the creature, and ran into the woods, the tree limbs smacked his arms, causing them to sting as he ran. _

_ He cried out as he fell, tumbling head over heels, realizing he was naked only when the cold pierced the tender skin of his groin. He looked up, checking for the stag, steam all around him, clouding his field of vision until it wasn’t the stag that was standing above him, but Abigail, choking on her own tar blood, droplets landing on his face as she gasped, and Molly and Wally, each with a bullet wound between their eyes, staring down at him with nothing but accusations in their expressions, tar falling in fat rivulets down their faces and chests, pooling beneath them on the paper-white snow. _

_ Will shivered and buried his head into the snow, curling into a ball and screaming as they got closer and closer, hands grabbing, pulling his hair, his skin, bringing him closer until it all went black. _

`~`

Alana was surprised to get the phone call, leaning against her kitchen corner as Margot fed their son. “Will Graham… I thought you’d lost my number. How are you?”

Will felt that little spark of attraction he’d always had for Alana fizzle and warm him slightly from the inside. “Hi Alana… I know, I, uh, haven’t really spoken to anyone from the States in a long while. I’m good, and you?”

Alana smiled at her wife and son, wondering how it was he’d gotten so big already, “I’ve been amazing, Will. Are you and Hannibal still…”

“We’re good, yeah, and we’re together. It’s actually been peaceful.  _ Really _ peaceful. But, uh, Alana, I actually did have something to talk about with you. I figured since you know what it’s like to carry a kid…” His thumb twitched a bit as he held the phone up to his ear.

Her eyes widened slightly and she choked on air. “You’re pregnant? Will, how-,”

“I wasn’t careful. I… I just wanted to know if it was bad. I don’t really want to keep the baby, but Hannibal is really excited about it. If I’m honest, I don’t really know what to do.”

Even from over the phone, Alana could hear the conflict in Will’s voice. She thought for a moment that she knew Hannibal wouldn’t hurt Will, but then she realized that might just be a hope. She knew how strongly Hannibal felt about betrayal, knew he wouldn’t appreciate Will going against his wishes, even if it was better for Will in the end. She could definitely understand his anxiety and hesitation, especially with who the father of that child was. “Why don’t you come down to Asheville? Stay a while, help Margot and I out with Morgan?”

Will smiled, feeling his shoulders relax and drop a bit, “That would honestly be great. When should I come?”

“As soon as possible. It may not be smart to let Hannibal know you’re leaving… but that’s up to you. You seem to know him better than I do.” Alana shuddered at the thought of Hannibal finding her family, remembering his previous promise to her.

“He won’t do anything to you if he knows. If anything, he’ll tell me I can’t come, and when I come anyway, he’ll come to bring me back.” He couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice, knowing that Hannibal would be  _ furious _ with him… but the baby growing inside him at least gave him some security. He was sure, most days, that Hannibal wouldn’t hurt him, but it had been a long time since he’d tested Hannibal’s trust. “I can at least make him promise me that.”

So, he did the smart thing first, and asked Hannibal what he thought of him going to visit Alana and Margot. Hannibal had given him a look that told him he had not forgotten his promise to Alana, and if he was allowed, he would act on it.

“Why would you want to go to her when you have everything you could want here? Is this place not perfect for you?” Will recognized the set in Hannibal’s brow, the choppiness in his movements, as slight as they were. “You have no need for her. You have me.”

Will rolled his eyes and leaned against the counter, staring at Hannibal’s knife as it sliced celery. “I know I have you, Hannibal, but have you ever been pregnant? Have you ever carried a child? I’ve never even taken care of a kid under the age of seven, have you? It’ll be good practice.”

Hannibal moved on to a bell pepper, wishing it was a carrot, something harder to chop, easier to work his frustration out on. “I do not understand and cannot pretend to. I would prefer that you did not go.”

Will nodded and looked at his fingers, tented in front of him on the counter. “I understand that, but I think it would be a good idea to get another perspective, get some practice taking care of a younger kid. Walter was already-,”

“I don’t care about Walter. This is my child, and I do not want Dr. Bloom to put any ideas in your head about my ability to parent.” Because he  _ was _ frustrated, he grabbed a carrot and started chopping, refusing to look at Will in the process, keeping his fingers as far away from the chopping block as he could.

“Hannibal, don’t worry about that, I just want practice being around and raising kids and talk to an old friend… is that so terrible?” Finally, Hannibal looked at Will and the anger and jealousy he saw in his eyes surprised him, though he supposed it shouldn’t. Hannibal knew about his previous feelings for Alana, because Will had not been as subtle as he thought he was around others, and resented those feelings, as if worried that Will would act on them, despite the fact they were both in long term, steady relationships and they would both be stupid to ignore that for, what would it be, one night of… awkward sex?

“If you’ve made up your mind already, then just go. I expect you will be back within a week, allowing you five days for fraternizing and two days for travel. I expect you to be in contact with me every night, and give me texts throughout the day. I expect that the animals will be taken care of, but I will change their water and refill their food as needed. I will feed the dogs and let them outside, but I will not do any brushing.” He went back to chopping carrots and no longer trying to hide the fact that he was angry.

“Don’t worry, Hannibal-,”

“Do not make me change my mind. I already do not want you to go.” He glanced up at Will and their eyes locked. Will almost shrank at the set of his brow, newly deepened and exaggerated by the frown that pulled his lips down.

Instead, he got up and walked around the counter and threaded his arms through Hannibal’s and pressed close, eyes closed. “I love you, Hannibal. Please don’t doubt that.”

He felt Hannibal sigh and drop his arms, letting them rest against Will’s. “I don’t. I just do not like the idea of her trying to sway you one way or the other. You may not see it now, but I know that we can be a real family, and we can and will do right by this child.”

As his cheek rested on Hannibal’s back and a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding released from him, he rubbed a small circle into Hannibal’s flat torso. “We’ll be okay, Han, no matter what happens.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will takes a trip, Hannibal resents it. Will realizes he really doesn't want this child... Alana wants to help.

Hannibal had been a touch colder than he usually was before Will had left, only offering a small peck to Will’s lips, as if Hannibal was just off to work, and Will wasn’t leaving for a whole week. Will knew Hannibal was pouting, jealous, and definitely unhappy he was going, but there was nothing to be done about that. Will was going, and he was going to enjoy his time with the Verger-Bloom family.

The plane ride and layover were long, made a little bit longer by the snow that was all over the midwestern states, but that only gave Will the opportunity to talk to Hannibal while he was in the airport. He could tell Hannibal missed him, despite of and thanks to the careful lack of emotions he heard while Hannibal said, yes of course it was good that the plane was landing safely, how terrible it was that the plane was delayed by snow on the runway. He smiled, knowing Hannibal was probably getting updates on his flight from the website itself, too anxious about not being with Will to let him give the updates.

While on the plane, Will found himself smiling at any babies he saw, and smiling at their parents. When another pregnant man boarded, he found himself smiling at him as well, and offering him a sympathetic look. It was something he’d never experienced before, the pull to be social, the pull to start bonding over a child. It was as sweet as it was frightening. It was as if his body was trying to prepare him for exactly what Hannibal wanted, though his own mind was still unsure of what he really wanted for their life. He found it incredibly difficult to keep his eyes forward during the rest of the flight.

North Carolina, when he finally landed, was beautiful, even though it too was covered in a silencing blanket of snow. Seeing Alana again made him smile, feeling like he was beaming, though it was only a small, fond smile that Alana happily returned.

“How’re you feeling, baby mama?” She teased once they fell into step, walking towards the exit, suitcase in Will’s hand.

Will rolled his eyes. “Hilarious. You should quit psychology and pursue comedy.”

She laughed and shook her head, “I’ve missed you, Will. You’ve been gone for a while. I’m glad to see you looking so well.”

“As it turns out, Hannibal isn’t as bad of an influence as I thought.” He shrugged and heaved the suitcase into the back of her car as she opened the door for him, giving him a look as she did so. “Well, based on the context of our relationship, anyway. He’s a wonderful partner when he’s not focused on murder and getting his way into newspapers for it.”

Alana couldn’t hide her distaste, but Will didn’t seem to pick up on it. “He’s been good to you, I assume?”

He finally met her eyes and the love she saw reflected in it, as though he was looking at Hannibal himself, startled her. “I have never been so content, Alana.”

Her own feelings about Hannibal aside, she gave Will a small smile, “Good. Alright, are you ready to see Margot and meet Morgan?”

`~`

The car ride over was easy, amicably silent as Will actually took in the landscape. It was nice to travel back here without the threat of imminent death hanging over his head.

Seeing the estate though, triggered a moment of panic, before he remembered Verger was dead. There was no threat. He was here to visit and be friendly. There would be no tour, no pigs, no restraints. He was visiting with friends, that was all. His heart still raced, but he hoped Alana wouldn’t be able to tell.

Once inside the manor, however, he could tell it was a transformed space. The haughty, elegant decorations that had made the house seem so old, stuffy and intimidating had been replaced with comfortable furniture, children’s clothes, a small toy couch, and the area had some toys strewn about and he noted that the space physically felt warmer, though that might be because of the fact that it was winter and the heat was definitely on, and he had his coat still on. He was willing to bet, though, that it was because the house felt more like a home, felt more lived in and more loved in.

Hannibal would hate what they’d done with it, because he refused to sacrifice style for functionality, and would much prefer things to  _ look _ polished and refined, rather than actually be comfortable. He would never allow for the toys to lay in sight, not if he could help it. It was one of the many reasons Will was so hesitant to bring an infant into the situation. Hannibal liked his home being  _ just so _ and he put up with the dogs, sure, but he clearly didn’t enjoy them sharing his space. Will couldn’t imagine Hannibal melting that cool exterior for a child who might have the same issues processing that Will had had growing up and continued to struggle with as an adult.

Will knew Hannibal now, knew he was very adoring, very affectionate, but in such subtle ways that a child may not understand, if it took after Hannibal rather than himself. He worried about the patience needed to raise a child like Will, who was better at masking now than he had been as a child, and had also gotten better about understanding peoples’ expectations, though he still struggled with eye contact.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by the sight of Margot, who hugged him and graced his cheek with a gentle kiss. “There’s the lucky young man!” He noticed that she felt a little softer, her cheeks looked just a touch plumper, than the last time he’d held her, and seemed  _ much _ happier.

“You’re younger than I am, Margot.” He lightly admonished, glad she was happy to see him after everything they’d been through.

“Who cares, you’re pregnant!” She placed a light hand on his stomach and he had to will himself not to jump away. “I heard you’re gracing us with your presence to see if you can handle a kid, good for you!” As if he had been waiting for the secret words, Morgan appeared behind Margot, shyly peeking out from behind her leg. “Morgan, say hello to Mr. Will.”

At the urgence of his mother, he held his chubby little hand out to Will and said, “Hello, sir, I’m Morgan Verger.” Hannibal would love how proper he stood there, hand outstretched, shy but bold enough to meet Will’s eyes in a move that was uniquely, distinctly Margot.

Will shook his hand, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Verger, my name is Will Graham.” As he said their last name, he couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine. He looked more like Alana at this age, with dark brown hair and chubby little cheeks, but he could see a little bit of Mason in the point of his chin.

Very seriously, the little boy nodded and stared at Will’s middle. “My mommies said you were pregnant. Where’s your tummy?”

All three adults shared a little smile. “I don’t have one yet, Morgan, my baby is still really tiny.”

Morgan’s face, so serious for a little boy, nodded and looked back up at his mother. “May I go play again?” Margot nodded and he bolted off, the excitement of a visitor apparently waning just as quickly as it had come.

“He’s very… polite.” Will said, finding himself smiling after the little boy.

“We do our best to teach him his manners,” Alana said, glancing at Margot and seeing her wife’s cheeks darken slightly with blush. “Mostly Margot’s doing. Regardless, let’s get out of the entryway, I’m sure you’d like to get out of your travel clothes, Will. Dinner should be ready soon.”

`~`

_ He awoke with a sore eye in the Verger stalls, hearing the hogs scream around him as he hung there, weightless and bleary in the freezing cold air. The beasts in their pens sent puffs of condensation up from their breaths but nothing near enough to him to warm his pained, shaking form. _

_ Silently he could see the nurse who had wanted to cut off his face monologuing. He was talking about how he was going to replace Verger’s ruined face with his own, but Will heard nothing other than the excited squealing of the pigs. Will couldn’t remember the whole conversation word for word, but he could remember enough to feel like he was going to soil himself, enough to remember what it was like and to be sure that he was going to die as he hung there, naked, afraid and this time, alone. _

_ He remembered the voice of the man, and to hear nothing but the whine of his voice, no words, just the whine as he stood there describing the things he would do, all with such a tight, happy smile on his face. It looked painful, that smile, pulled tension lines all over his pudgy face and bald head. Will could practically hear the skin making noises, under the whine of the nurse’s voice. _

_ Will started to shiver, tried to close his eyes, turn his head, but they stayed open and fixated on the man despite his attempts, as the nurse got closer and closer, reaching out with his scalpel to do the deed, to give Verger Will Graham’s face, to take the face that Will had worn and give it to someone else, as a sick birthday-revenge present. Suddenly, the man’s own face, under so much tension of that smile, burst open, splattering blood, brains, bones and teeth all over Will’s own face. _

_ The body fell over, coming to a stop to rest on Will’s shoulder, which burned slightly at the new weight and startling warmth against his bare skin. He trembled as the bloody stump gushed blood all over him, warming him with its blanket of sticky, thick heat. To Will’s surprise, there was the stag, in the background, wearing a smirk on its human face, none of the other features visible except for the fur that swayed lightly as it walked on all fours towards him. _

_ Normally its piercing light brown eyes bore into Will, telling him that it knew that he was afraid of it. This time, it had no eyes, had no nose, had no features other than that smirk, that knowing grin. It knew he was terrified of it, knew it was a common frightening fixture in his life. Now, though, it knew he was glad to see it, rather than the nurse, rather than Verger, rather than any hogs that might try and take a bite while he hung so helplessly there. _

_ It looked as if it were going in for a snuggle, head lowered towards Will’s abdomen, until its antlers atop the human head slowly pierced his torso and it ripped him in half. His top half stayed suspended from the chains he was hung on. A hand emerged from the stag’s chest and played with his dangling innards, batting them around as a cat would a ball of yarn. _

_ Will didn’t even struggle, just watched his own blood intermingle with the blood of the nurse’s as it made a neat little puddle on the floor, where his legs and groin lay, adding to the puddle that slowly soaked the nurse’s crisp, white uniform. It was playing with him, telling him that only it was allowed to frighten him, the only one to make him scared to go to sleep. _

_ It was every bit as possessive as Hannibal was, wanting to be Will’s one and only fright. Will knew this, and he felt himself start to retch, the action being incomplete because of his stomach sitting on the floor but he still tried, tried, tried, as the stag watched, bringing a blood sticky hand to rest on Will’s face. _

`~`

The week went by quickly. Morgan was a very good child, incredibly obedient, always on his best behavior while around Will. It hadn’t been exactly what he’d been hoping for. Every night he was telling Hannibal about the day, mentioning how good Morgan was, and he could hear the excitement in Hannibal’s voice, as much as Hannibal tried to pretend that it wasn’t there. He seemed to think Will was close to making his mind up about keeping their child.

In reality, Will was leaning farther and farther towards not keeping it. The dreams he was having, Abigail bleeding out no matter how hard he pressed against her throat, her smile, her pained expression when Hannibal had slit her throat, Walter looking for him, wandering alone as he stumbled through the snow and trees, being hunted and gored through by the stag, which had made a new appearance, watching and waiting in every dream, wondering what he would do, all haunted him in his dreams as he watched, unable to stop the horrors from happening, until he awoke, vomit rushing up, burning as it escaped onto the sheets. He was never sure if it was morning sickness or the horror of his dreams, but he supposed that didn’t really matter.

Regardless of how good Morgan was, Will had been talking with Alana, and he admitted that actually getting to express his worries and talk about them with another adult was  _ nice _ and something he’d needed for a long time.

“I’m just worried about the child. Morgan is different, you and Margot are normal, you don’t do anything… weird or unusual. Hannibal and I… we’re not normal, and I don’t think we should have this kid. I just don’t think we should be procreating. It was one thing when he wanted Abigail and I to run away with him, but having a kid of our own… I don’t think it’s smart, Alana.” Will found himself nervously scratching a spot on his wrist as he talked about it. “I’d be much more open to adoption, but… Hannibal, predictably, wants this one.”

Alana nodded sympathetically, looking every part of her profession, despite still being dressed in her pajamas. “Will, this is still your body, and with the fetus being so small at this point… you could just lose the baby.”

His head rocked back and forth slowly. That  _ was _ an option. Pregnancies failed in the first trimester all the time. They were common enough that some people waited until they were past a certain date to announce their pregnancy. He was certainly early enough, travelling enough, stressed enough that it could happen.

The question wasn’t really that though. Would he be able to keep that it had been purposeful from Hannibal? Hannibal had an impeccable sense of smell, one that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to trick with just a shower and the stench of an airport. He was too out of practice, too used to being honest around Hannibal now. “I don’t want to go behind his back like that. He’d know, and would be much more furious with me that way.”

Alana nodded, she’d known that was what Will would say, and she knew exactly why Will was worried about it. “He would, but if you really don’t want this baby, Will… it’s the smartest thing to do. You could at least try.”

As if he could hear their conversation, Will’s phone lit up with a phone call from Hannibal. “We were just talking about you, Han.” Despite his look of guilt and worry, he was able to keep his voice even and warm.

“I had the feeling that the two of you were conspiring, and I didn’t like it.” Will smiled at the honesty in Hannibal’s voice. He could picture his future husband with his home phone in the crux of his shoulder, pressed tight to his ear while he cooked, steam from vegetables rising behind him as he stood in his domain. Hannibal had a habit of chopping while he was stressed, and Will could hear the knife hitting the cutting board.

“Don’t worry, we weren’t. We were just talking about how well we’ve been doing.” The lie slid off his tongue easily, and it sounded convincing enough to him. “I was wondering, though, have you given any more thought to whether or not you  _ really _ want this kid?”

True to Will’s imagined version of himself, Hannibal was in the kitchen, this time hacking at a half frozen human thigh that he’d been planning on just scoring the skin and soaking in a brine for Will’s return, but now was taking his anger out on, and he was  _ angry _ . He hated Will being by that foul woman, hated that he still valued her friendship when she was  _ clearly _ unsuited for anything more than a quick fuck. He hated that Will was already there and he wasn’t allowed to fulfill his promise. “Of course not. I have decided that I want the child. I want  _ our _ child. It is our second chance to be a family.”

Will sighed and cast his eyes to the side, knowing that he should’ve expected that. “That’s what I’d thought.”

“Why are you so hesitant to have this child, Will?” Hannibal let out a grunt, burying the cleaver into the thick thigh, imagining that it was Alana’s torso, and he was watching her bleed out. “I thought you would’ve been excited to have a family. You had your wife, you had Walter. You wanted Abigail when she was still alive. Why is it so different to have a child of our own?”

If Will didn’t know Hannibal, he’d think he was actually hurt by the fact that Will was so worried about having the baby. He knew the tone, knew it was a sympathy grab from Hannibal, but he wanted to bite, wanted to talk to Hannibal while he was safe, thousands of miles away. “I don’t think it’s smart to make another kid like me.” He said, relaxing into the sofa the rest of the room, including Alana, seemed to melt away as he imagined himself in the same room as Hannibal, standing in front of him, across the counter.

“You mean, you don’t think it’s smart to make another person like  _ me _ ?” The noises on the other end of the phone stopped, save for Hannibal’s slightly heavy breathing. He imagined Hannibal, hair slightly mussed from the effort of working out his frustrations, staring meaningfully at whatever it was he was chopping. True to Will’s imaginings, Hannibal pushed his hair back off his face. “I believe I understand your hesitation now. You are worried what a child the two of us would create would be.”

Will felt his mouth dry. “Yes.” He said, not wanting to lie to Hannibal, not when he’d already figured out the worst of Will’s worries.

“You believe the child would be a monster?” Hannibal tried, going back to actually scoring the meat, now that the reason for his frustration was being answered. “You believe the product of our union would be a monstrosity? You believe that a life with the two of us would be catastrophic?”

Forgetting he wasn’t actually in the room with Hannibal, Will nodded. That was exactly what he was worried about. He was worried their child would be smart, to a more frightening degree than Hannibal, with a need for recognition worse than its father, and was worried that at best, the child would be just like him, be just as easily manipulated into sacrificing their mental health for “the greater good”, the way he so often had. He had never wanted a child of his own, had never wanted another to be subjected to the same pain he suffered.

“I understand.” Hannibal answered Will’s silence, able to decipher what Will had meant, though he had said nothing. He carefully guarded his voice, unknowing that Will fully understood him, Will could see into his thought processes, Will still had his extreme empathy, even if it hadn’t been used for anything extraordinary in a long time.

“We’re not meant to procreate, Hannibal. The world doesn’t need anymore chaos. If you want a child, we can adopt. We can still be a family!” Alana placed a hand on Will’s knee, jerking him back into her living room, surrounded by colorful children’s toys and ornate furniture. “Sorry, Alana.”

Hannibal stilled, face twitching in annoyance. He knew Will was apologizing for his volume, but anger still bubbled in his chest at the fact that she was there, touching his Will, and Hannibal was stuck in Canada, unable to gently prod Will in the right direction. “I understand what you mean, Will. Do not forget, however, that you are meant to return tomorrow, and I do have a meal being prepared for you, so come home hungry.”

With that, Hannibal hung up the phone. Though his tone had been even, and he had said nothing specific that would hint that he was angry, Will knew he was. He felt a stab of anxiety tingle its way into his fingers as he locked his phone and placed it face down on his thigh. “He’s pissed.”

Alana nodded, brows furrowed, lips slightly pursed. “We knew he would be. What do you think he’s most upset about?” She had her own theories as to why, but Will knew Hannibal best. He saw the good in Hannibal, felt the good that Hannibal had to share.

“I think he’s most upset that… I think our kid would be dangerous. I really do, Alana. I can’t imagine having another Hannibal, raising the kid to respect the law and be respectful of others’ humanities while Hannibal teaches them that humans are no better than cattle.” He exhaled sharply, feeling the panic flee as relief took its place, finally putting words to his hesitancies. “I don’t want to be responsible for bringing another psychopath into this world. I couldn’t get Hannibal to stop, he thinks I don’t see him checking missing persons websites, but I do. I know he gets off on being the reason those people are dead, I know he gets off on the attention it gets, even if the media thinks blizzards are to blame.”

Alana nodded again, rubbing Will’s knee and turning those sympathetic eyes to him. He let his head drop and a hand move up to lodge itself in his curls. “It makes sense that he would want a child,” he continued, “someone to mold, someone to teach. He adores teaching, loves the position of power it puts him in, but you knew that. If he has his own child, he won’t have to seek out the attention of other murderers when he gets bored. He hasn’t done that yet, but he’s patient. I know he’ll get bored, and when he does, his child will probably want to join him.”

“It isn’t too late. We can set up a doctor’s visit-,”

“I don’t want him to think I did this on purpose. I’ll do my best to keep this pregnancy as dangerously as I can, without him finding out.” He glanced at Alana, meeting her eyes for only a moment. “I want him to think it was an accident if I manage to kill this baby.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will comes home and does his best to rid himself of the pregnancy.

The flight back home was easier, since North Carolina had gotten a break from the snow, and what snow had fallen had swiftly melted with the heat of the engines. He was more reckless this time, straining himself as much as he could, all hoping it would cause him to miscarry.

Hannibal was there to meet him at the airport, his expression fond as he moved to take Will’s suitcase.

“Don’t worry, Hannibal,” Will chuckled, “it’s a rolling suitcase, no big deal.”

Hannibal nodded and pecked Will on the cheek, lightly bumping foreheads with him. “I missed you.” He whispered, capturing Will’s gaze and holding it, searching for any traces of dishonesty.

“I missed you too, Han.” He held Hannibal’s gaze for a moment, before looking away and starting towards the exit. “I can’t wait to go home. Alana’s house is nice, but nothing like being home with you and the dogs.”

Because of their constant communication, Will at least knew that the dogs were well, and Hannibal had sent him pictures unprompted. He also knew his other animals were well, though the goats had missed their free roaming. Regardless of having that knowledge, that was all Will could think about, and all he wanted to talk about on the way home. He knew, of course, Hannibal wanted to grill him about his visit, but Will wasn’t quite ready for that.

“Has anything interesting been going on at work?” Will asked as their conversation about the animals petered out. “Have you wanted to host another party?” Getting on Hannibal’s good side, appealing to his pride and trying to get him to think that maybe, just maybe Will was coming around to the idea of a child, Will hoped he could fool Hannibal. It wouldn’t be easy, it never was, but the relief he got from the idea alone spurred him on.

Hannibal opened the car door for Will, and got into the driver’s seat. “Nothing very interesting has gone on with work. I had a few students stupid enough to try to plagarise in my class, but they were swiftly expelled.” He carefully left out the part that he’d been so angry with their stupidity, angry with the school for letting their laziness pass by other teachers, that he’d wanted to find them, create a masterpiece with them, send a message to their parents, their school and anyone else who dared try to pass off idiocy and laziness as novelty, especially so far along in their education. Instead, they lived, left to try and find another University to attend. While Hannibal certainly craved Will’s warm praises, he didn’t think he would get the reaction he so wanted in this case.

Will nodded, watching out the window, though also wanting to smile at Hannibal. “Well, you did the right thing. I know that’s not always the easiest choice, but I think they learned their lesson.”

Hannibal’s lips quirked upwards, reminded that Will knew him, Will saw him for what he was, tried to steer him in the direction Will believed was correct and appreciated Hannibal’s efforts. “I certainly believe so. The gentleman who had originally written the paper started to cry when I explained that they were both being held responsible.” Again, he did not mention that Hannibal had certainly believed them to be crocodile tears, angry more at the fact that he’d been caught and Hannibal had explained exactly why he’d been wrong to do so, not sparing the young man’s feelings for a single moment. It was considerably more cruel than he usually felt necessary, but he had been incredibly angry. The sight alone of the young man throwing his career away for a pretty, though lazy, girl was nearly enough to make him scream. He had kept his composure, kept his temper in check, though, and hadn’t truly offended the young man. The girl, lazy and vapid as she was, however, had gotten the full force of his anger.

Will sighed, nodding knowingly. “I always hated calling out plagiarism. It’s necessary, but I never liked it. A lot of the new FBI recruits asked why it mattered when they were going to be field agents. They never really realized that nobody was going to help them take crime scene notes, and if they couldn’t write a paper, there was no way they were going to be trusted with crime scene information.”

Hannibal’s lips twitched again, having almost forgotten that Will had been an educator himself. He couldn’t imagine Will  _ teaching _ , not his little farmer, but the way the professionalism seeped its way into Will’s voice, the way he sat up, just a touch, recovering his posture to talk about his previous position, he remembered one of the reasons he fell in love with the younger man. He was intelligent, not just empathetic. His brain worked so differently from others, titillating and truly  _ interesting _ . Perhaps it was worth listening to his concerns about their child…

No. Will had diagnosable anxiety disorders, as well as other issues that made him paranoid at best, completely irrational at worst. Hannibal knew best in this situation, Will relied on Hannibal to be rational, to a fault.

“As for a party, we do have cause to celebrate.” He answered, treading lightly, watching Will’s reaction. “Though it may be early yet.”

Will nodded, glancing at Hannibal and then back out the window, watching his reflection for any of his usual tells, “It’s a little early to celebrate that.” He agreed, giving a heavy sigh, trying to reflect nerves. “I wish I had information about how easy it was for my mother to get and stay pregnant. Pregnancy can be finicky.”

Hannibal nodded and placed a large hand on Will’s knee. “Not to worry. You are strong, I am strong. Our genes are impeccable. It is highly improbable-,”

“Highly improbable isn’t absolute. I just want you to think about it.” Will hated cutting Hannibal off, knowing Hannibal similarly hated being interrupted. “I don’t have that information, that’s all I wanted you to know.”

Hannibal clenched his jaw, but nodded tersely. “I understand, Will.” He didn’t like the implication Will was giving him. Surely Alana had had some underhanded suggestions, allowing Will to continue with his baseless worries about the monstrosity of their future child. The things Hannibal did, while terrible to the rest of the population, made perfect sense to him. He was helping further the human race, culling off the pigs while the lions feasted on their remains, putrid brains rotting while their meat gave sustenance to the higher creatures. If their child felt the same urges he had felt from an early age, then all the better.

How could Will understand him so well and refuse to even try to understand what their child could be so vehemently?

The silence they slipped into was not easy but it was broken up by classical music that Hannibal started playing once the silence slipped past five whole minutes. He wanted to make a quip about it being good for the baby’s brain growth but he didn’t think he should risk it, not wanting a fight.

`~`

As soon as they got home, Will bolted to the barn to check on his farm animals, knowing that they were fine but wanting to see them for himself. Hannibal opened the front door, letting the dogs run out and surround Will. Seeing him so happy, on his knees and reuniting with his dogs and other animals made Hannibal smile, really smile.

Will looked over at Hannibal and smiled back. It was important to remind himself that yes, he loved Hannibal, and ulterior motives aside, Hannibal loved him as well. They were in love, that was the whole reason they were there, it was the whole reason they were in this situation. It wasn’t a lack of love that kept Will skeptical of their ability to parent, it was a lack of sense in the matter.

Dinner that night was mostly silent, though much more amicable than the drive home had been. “The food is as delicious as always. Alana and Margot aren’t much for cooking.” To be truthful, he’d been a little grateful for normal food after having Hannibal’s high standards for so long. He hadn’t realized how much he missed regular old pizza until he was eating with the Bloom-Vergers and had accidentally moaned around the greasy, floppy slice. After they had seen his reaction to plain pizza, the women had fed Will up with all kinds of foods he hadn’t realized he’d been missing.

Hannibal let out a prideful little noise, already having known the Bloom-Vergers were nowhere near the gourmand he was. It was impressive that they raised their own pork, of course, but they just didn’t have the eye or nose for detail that he did. “I am glad you are back home. I want to make sure you have all of the proper nutrients to grow our child.”

In response, Will dutifully chewed another bite. “I’m nervous about having this child, Hannibal, but I appreciate your commitment. Just hold back until we have our first ultrasound, okay? I don’t want you to get your hopes up only to have the baby miscarry.”

Hannibal nodded. He did understand that Will didn’t have the information he would like to before actually giving birth. He understood that anxiety, but he and Will were strong, healthy. He fed Will well, he had improved his diet immensely, and the farm kept Will active. There should be no reason for this pregnancy to fail.

Hannibal had done some research, though, and knew that despite Will’s health, the pregnancy could still fail. There was often no real reason for it, but Hannibal knew that Will would carry a healthy pregnancy to term if he just stopped worrying about it. For Will, this was mind over matter, and if he did not mind, these worries would not matter.

“You will, of course, have to stop taking some of your medications.” Hannibal said, “I know that at least one in particular can cause birth defects.”

Will almost protested, Hannibal could see it in the slight twitch of his face, the set in his mouth, until he steadied himself and calmed down. “Of course.”

Though that had been exactly what Hannibal had been wanting to hear, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like the way Will had seemed to get himself under control. He didn’t like hearing what he wanted while Will’s face told a different story. “Do you have any worries about that, Will?” He asked, watching Will’s face carefully.

Aware he was being watched and kicking himself for fucking up, Will nodded. “Of course I do. I know the effects of going off medications suddenly, but I’m confident you’ll help me through this. You are the accomplished Dr. Hannibal Lector, after all.”

Hannibal gave a tight smile and ducked his gaze back to his food. “Indeed I am.”

`~`

_ Will screamed until his throat was raw, until no more noise came from him. He was inside a glass prison, the mask he’d worn under Dr. Chilton’s care snuggly affixed to his face. _

_ He shivered as he sank to his knees, seeing Hannibal, Alana and Margot enjoying one of Hannibal’s meals, laughing, talking, completely ignoring him from inside the hamster cage he seemed to be trapped inside. He saw the man from Hannibal’s work come and kiss him on the cheek. _

_ When he looked down, he saw his belly, bright red, distended and round, much rounder than a pregnancy should be. It reminded him of a tick until it squirmed. A hand pressed out and it  _ **_hurt_ ** _ , not just out but inside as well. His back ached and he sat down, watching from so far away, his loved ones as they feasted without him. _

_ The creature inside him stirred again, seeming to stretch out as far as it could, almost in a starfish formation. He whimpered as he felt its hand grab his spine and pull. He couldn’t make any other noises other than that whimper and a little gasp of pain. He knew they wouldn’t hear him anyway. _

_ It pulled on his spine again and he let out another whimper, sinking fully to the ground and curling around his painfully tight stomach. Bile and blood dripped from his mouth, pooling beneath his head but not finding it within him to care. He writhed, feeling the creature move as it seemed to change form. _

_ First, it felt like a snake coiled around his insides, twisting around and around itself as Will cried silently for help, tears adding to the puddle. He could feel its coils as they pressed against his tight, shiny skin. It hurt, feeling his skin swell so tightly around something that moved. _

_ Then, it was a porcupine with tiny needles, not long enough to poke through the skin, but long enough to be shredding his insides to pieces. It did somersaults within him, bringing up more and more blood. He vomited blood, feeling it pour from his mouth, as he was too weak to get up onto his hands and knees. A strained groan left his throat as the blood burbled out around coughs and wheezes. _

_ Last, he felt the stag’s antlers pierce through his stomach. Like an overfilled water balloon in slow motion, his stomach split open, the stag and all of Will’s innards spilling with the action. The stag was smaller than it usually was, and it slid out, long strips of Will’s uterus hanging from its antlers, on a wave of amniotic fluid. It patted Will’s intestines with its miniature hand. Its eyes were piercing as they stared at one another. He was too weak to do anything about the creature as it stared at him, clearly wanting him to come closer as it opened its mouth, revealing rows upon rows of porcupine quills and fangs, waiting to devour him, tear him limb from limb. _

_ Will looked up at the sound of the lid to his hamster cage opening and gasped, choking on a blood clot. A giant-sized Hannibal looked down at him and the miniature stag. Will let out a weak mewl, hoping more than anything that Hannibal would get him out of there. Instead, he reached down and picked up the stag, and stared it down. It hissed at him, but he only chuckled at the angry little thing. He seemed to be assessing it, making sure it was correctly proportioned, before nodding and placing it in his suit pocket. He cast one more look at Will, laying in his organs and filth, before closing the lid to the hamster cage and walking away. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pregnancy progresses, Will's off his meds, he decides to take a drive.

Over the next few days, as long as they weren’t discussing Will’s pregnancy, everything was back to the way it had been before it; soft, sweet, amicable. It was easy, without the pressure of the pregnancy, to remember exactly how Will had gotten pregnant, how much he really did love Hannibal and enjoyed his presence when he wasn’t being finicky over the dog fur or reminding him about the pregnancy, as if he could forget, with how sick he kept getting.

Despite how easy everything was without talk of Will’s condition, Hannibal continued bringing up the pregnancy, telling Will how grateful he was for it to have happened, how lucky he was to not have damaged anything while causing the scar on Will’s lower belly. “I know, Hannibal. If you had wanted me dead, I would have been.”

Of course, that much was true, but at the time, betrayed and upset that his plans were ruined, Hannibal had actually wanted Will to bleed out on his floor in Baltimore, Maryland, mere feet away from where Jack had lain as he too bled out, mere inches from Abigail, desperately trying to keep her from dying.

Hannibal didn’t mention that to Will, preferring to let Will continue believing that Hannibal hadn’t acted out of selfish anger and pain. He refused to acknowledge that he had felt such petulant anger, believing himself above it. He especially did not want to acknowledge the fact that he really had felt pain to hurt Will, and to slay Abigail. Originally, he had only wanted her along because of her potential, but when Will had taken a liking to her, he had kept her alive as a present to Will. Then, once she was truly gone, he realized what an opportunity he had taken from them. That was why he was so pleased that Will was pregnant. He felt it was a cosmic do-over, that God was truly shining on him and giving him a second chance.

Feeling Will snuggled up to him again, though, made Hannibal smile, gave him hope that they  _ would _ be a family, that he  _ could _ fix his mistake. No, he could not bring Abigail back, but he could keep this child alive, he could make sure Will knew that his intentions were pure. Yes, he wanted to mold a young mind, but he could at least wait until the child was older, if that was what Will wanted. It would be easier to teach the child from a young age, the way Hobbs had, but Will certainly seemed opposed to that idea.

In fact, as Will slumbered, Hannibal wondered what Will would be like off his medications. Will had been correct, it was dangerous to suddenly go off medications, but… it would also be interesting, wouldn’t it? It had been a while since Hannibal had messed with Will’s medications… but no. Will was already hesitant to be pregnant. It would be stupid to mess with that. He could make his own entertainment until the baby was born.

`~`

At Will’s next doctor visit, she gave the baby a clean bill of health, mentioning that the baby looked and sounded strong. Hannibal had been beyond pleased, and Will… Well, while he felt proud of the fact that he was in fact growing a strong baby, the way Hannibal kept telling him he was, he was still determined to try and lose it. He stood by his belief that they were not meant to procreate, even more assured than after he’d gotten home from Alana’s.

He kept trying everything he could to try and naturally abort the baby from home, finding different herbs that were said to stimulate miscarriages, though he soon found that they needed constant, steady ingestion to cause it. Will simply didn’t have enough of the herbs, and if Hannibal researched any of them, he would certainly find out what they did. He was angry, frustrated that it appeared more and more every day that he would have to finish carrying this child.

The farther he got along in his pregnancy, the more desperate he got, trying everything he could think of, including hard labor, until he was massive, carrying very heavily in the front at only six months. He could barely bend over, much less sling hay bales the way he used to. He found himself sleeping in the extra bedroom more often than not, just because he got up so many times a night to pee, and because he was always sweaty. Summer wasn’t nearly as intense as it had been in Virginia and yet with the pregnancy and the heat outside, he found himself waking up wet more often than he didn’t.

There were many changes during pregnancy, Will had figured out. His facial and body hair had thinned out, and he ended up shaving it all because of how patchy it looked and how weird it felt. His body’s shape had started changing, growing outwards with a baby bump, sure, but his hips had gotten steadily wider over the months, preparing for what was to come. He sported many more stretch marks than he’d gotten in middle and high school and his hair was greasier too. He noticed that despite waking up sopping wet with sweat, he didn’t often smell quite as badly as he had earlier in the pregnancy. He knew this was probably due to his body creating different hormones for different purposes, his body was changing around this baby as the baby was changing inside of him. It was an odd feeling, knowing his body was becoming different. It felt almost like puberty, but different. It was a much nicer way of thinking about the creature growing inside of him, a baby helping change his body rather than a parasite swelling him from within.

The best change had been the way Hannibal had begun worshipping his body, helping Will rub lotion on his belly, rubbing his feet and ankles as they swelled. Hannibal talked to the baby, told it every day, multiple times a day that it was loved, adored. He spoke to the baby in English, Italian, Lithuanian and French. He urged Will to do the same, to speak to the baby as if it were one of his dogs, smiling warmly at his belly when the baby started kicking, chuckling and calling it strong, fierce. In those moments, warm but not stifled and comforted but not coddled, surrounded on all sides by the dogs, pillows, blankets and Hannibal, he felt the most safe and the most adored.

Being off his meds had been the worst change. Feeling his hopelessness return, his anxiety worsen and the black stag peeking around every corner had been disheartening at first, terrifying second and especially horrible as the days dragged on and on. He found himself crying more often, dismissing it due to pregnancy hormones, though the many reasons he was crying were definitely not all hormonal. Hormones were when he burst into tears over dropping his spoon while it was full of peanut butter, or full out sobbing over Hannibal refusing him a food he was craving simply because it wasn’t healthy, or wasn’t to his standard of quality. That, he knew, was due to hormones.

When he cried while Hannibal was away, however, didn’t have much to do with hormones. He cried for Abigail, he cried for Walter, he cried for the sense of normalcy that he was giving up for this child. He cried because of guilt, not feeling like he was really bonding with the baby, even as it was growing inside of him, he cried once from fear, seeing a vision of Hannibal while he was at work, lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce on him and rip the half-formed baby out of him and devour it whole before focusing on Will next. He cried for his mother, a woman whose face he couldn’t remember, who had carried him the same way. He wondered if this was what she had gone through as she carried him, and if it wasn’t he couldn’t blame her for not staying.

His visions got so bad he called Alana, hearing the surprise that first appeared in her voice mellow out as he babbled, letting out all of his anxieties to his friend on the other side of the continent. She was calm where he was panicked, understanding where he had none and he let her tranquility wash over him, even while Morgan played in the background.

She was disapproving that he kept the child, but she understood his fear better than anyone. At the moment, she was the only one who understood where he was and how he was feeling. Hannibal understood that he was panicking, realizing his anxiety was back, was possibly worse than before, but he was so professional about it, unable to separate the lover’s side of him from his professional side. He couldn’t separate the personal annoyance from the sociopathic curiosity, enjoying prodding Will, seeing what he would do, even now. Will also knew that Hannibal hated the more extreme reactions, despised crying, found hyperventilating tedious, but those were Will’s options sometimes. Hannibal, in principal, realized that Will’s bursts of irritability were due to anxiety and discomfort, but didn’t seem to understand that in practice. He didn’t seem to understand that Will  _ couldn’t _ be rational right now. He knew what was happening, he was aware, but it just wasn’t possible for him to be a rational human being. He was in pain, erratic. He couldn’t handle being rational.

Alana comforted, realizing this was just panic escaping, understanding that Will needed nothing from her other than a sympathetic ear and maybe some anecdotal advice. This was why he so desperately wanted to hear her voice. She understood him just as well as Hannibal did, if not better some days.

Despite everything Alana was able to do for him, Will still found himself fighting the urge to run. He’d never wanted to run from Hannibal, not now that they were so settled, but as he closed in on the seventh month of his pregnancy, he felt the urge every day. Each day, as the stag got closer, as his old paranoias came back to bite him worse and worse, he felt the world closing in on him.

One morning, when he woke up to the stag right in his face following another horrific dream that he struggled not to remember, he screamed, managing to haul his body out of the bed, feet painfully slapping the floor. He knew Hannibal was already at work, because that was just how their days were going now. Will woke up so many times a night to pee that he slept more in the daytime than at night, and as a result often missed his good morning kiss from Hannibal. With this knowledge and the stag getting further away the more he blinked, Will threw clothes in a suitcase he hadn’t touched since going to Alana’s. He managed to throw a half consumed bag of dog food in the back of his truck, which had mostly sat there unused since he’d gotten there, aside from the odd time he went to pick up supplies from a feed store. He prayed it would start, and when it did, he couldn’t help but cheer.

He turned the truck off and fed his birds, and put fresh hay in the goats’ feeder. He didn’t know how long he would be gone, but he knew enough that Hannibal surely wouldn’t care for them, not the way he did.

The dogs had been pacing around Will up until this point, unsure where he was going with their food, but once he opened up the passenger side door of the truck, they all hopped in. The sight of all his babies, his real babies, in the truck without him made him pause, sigh, and think about what he was doing. Was he really going to take them all somewhere? He could hear Hannibal in the back of his mind reminding him to take a moment, pause, breathe. Was this the correct choice? What was the plan after this?

He got in, his swollen ankles and feet killing him. His belly didn’t quite fit when he first sat down, and the horn sounded as the baby bumped it. He jumped and moved his seat back, leaning over his belly to rest his forehead on the wheel. Being in the truck again, smelling its familiar old dog and leather scent tinged with burning dust from the unused heater was comforting, even as he switched the heater off. His heart was racing, he knew the stag wasn’t real, knew his dreams were not reality, but sitting in the truck, listening to it run, hearing it ding, alerting him that he didn’t have his seatbelt on was comforting, at least a little bite of normalcy that he hadn’t had in so long, despite the twinge of pain in his back being in this position.

When the stag slammed its fists on the hood of the truck, startling him but not alerting the dogs, Will decided yes, absolutely it was time to go. As the tires spun on the gravel, he panicked, holding his arm out in front of the dogs, doing what he could to keep them all in place while the cab rocked on the unsteady ground and spinning tires.

As soon as he got on the road he was glad it had rained the day before, so the road was no longer slick. He checked the rearview mirror obsessively, watching for anything to come up behind him in the road. After twenty minutes of seeing nothing following him, he stopped checking. He finally allowed himself to turn on the radio, noting with a small chuckle that he hadn’t switched the radio settings from what they had been in Virginia.

The dogs, now used to the pace of the car, had mostly all fallen asleep, unsure of where they were going, but trusting Will to get them there safely. One rested its head in what was left of Will’s lap at one point and he absentmindedly patted it as he drove. He wasn’t sure where he was going to go, but so long as he was running away from the home that he and Hannibal shared, he was sure his mood was going to improve.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal has to find Will. Will has a conversation with the baby.

Hannibal’s curiosity had been piqued when he came home and Will’s truck was missing. He knew there was no way he could be going to the feed store, he’d had Hannibal pick up the animal’s feed the last time he’d needed anything. It was when he didn’t hear the dogs barking at him that Hannibal realized something was wrong. Will hadn’t gone anywhere in the last few months, his truck was gone, the dogs were gone… his mental health had been steadily declining while off his medications… fuck.

As he got out of his car, he noted that the place where the truck had been sitting had a lot of upturned gravel. Before allowing himself any anger or anxiety to nestle itself in the pit of his chest, he checked the house, which had been left unlocked. That wasn’t much of a worry, as they lived in a fairly isolated location, their closest neighbors being six kilometers away, but Will never left the door unlocked, being too paranoid to feel safe with the door open, especially now that he had been off all medications for so long.

Hannibal didn’t bother calling out for Will, knowing already that he wasn’t there, but he checked the house over meticulously, making sure expensive items were still in place and if anything was missing, it was Will’s.

True to Hannibal’s suspicions, he found the mess of clothes haphazardly thrown around the second bedroom, and found that Will’s suitcase was missing from the closet. Will’s cell phone was still on charge on the nightstand. From what he could tell, Will had left of his own accord, likely due to something akin to a panic attack or possibly a psychotic break as soon as he’d woken up.

Walking back outside, Hannibal followed the tire impressions in the gravel driveway, reaching the end and seeing that there were rocks freshly kicked up, headed to the left. He walked back to his car and got in, struggling to feel anything other than irritation. The dogs’ food was gone but Will hadn’t thought to bring any food for himself. Typical.

Knowing that Will had left in a panic told Hannibal that aside from heading to the left, Will had no idea where he was going. On the one hand, that was a good thing. That meant that Will hadn’t thought much of this through, and he was probably going to head straight until he ran out of steam, and stopped in the nearest town. The bad part of that was that Hannibal had no idea Will’s state of mind, how panicked he was, how much energy he had. However, it would be difficult to find a hotel that tolerated that many dogs, no matter how well behaved they were. Hannibal pulled over, looking up the nearest dog friendly hotels, and only finding two in a five hour radius. That was where he would start, and if he were to get desperate, he would start checking hotels that were not dog friendly.

He chuckled at the picture of Will, heavily pregnant, sneaking each of his beloved pups up into a hotel room. Some of the smaller ones, he could possibly hide under his shirt, while the larger ones would be a bit more obvious.

Hannibal relaxed into his seat, knowing he would find Will and bring him home. They would be fine, they would be a family. Privately, he knew he had a hand in this, possibly more than just a hand, but publicly he would never admit that Will had run from him. He despised the fact that Alana knew Will was so desperately unhappy. He knew she probably blamed him, more the reason for him to wish he could fulfill his promise to her.

Alas, he had a life with Will, and while it would give him great pleasure to enact his promise to her, Will would be upset with him. Usually that wouldn’t be a problem, but with the baby and how erratic he was acting… it was not worth the pleasure. Yet.

`~`

As they both drove, neither hesitated to take in the beautiful scenery. In winter, only the evergreens stood proud and untouched, but in the summer months, they had beautiful blooms dotting the trees and the road as they each ran over the blooms that had already fallen.

As Will drove, he became increasingly calmer, surrounded by his pups and the ambient sunlight of mid-summer, a season that, with how far north he was, he found superior to any summer spent in the states. He realized that now that he was driving, he could open the windows, let the dogs hang their heads out and feel the warmth of the summer air toss his sweaty curls. For the first time all day, his sweat dried and he slowed down, watching the landscape as he passed through. A vision of the stag still haunted his mind, imagining it chasing after him, but this far away from his home, he theorized that the stag was weakening, slowing down, unable to keep up under the beautiful sun-spotted road. It was a thought that comforted and worried him, he hoped he was correct, but he could keep running if he was not.

Hannibal, however, chose not to slow down. He realized that yes, the landscape was beautiful, but he only cared about the fact that Will had gone this very way, would continue to go this way until beautiful scenery devolved into manmade comforts. He knew Will wanted to be left alone, but Will had left so much behind that Hannibal could not resist trying to bring him back home, where he could be monitored and kept safe from his own failing mind. He did not open his windows, did not feel the sweet summer breeze that Will had enjoyed. He was on a mission that had to be accomplished in at least two days.

As Hannibal drove and passed a few long driveways, he wondered if Will could be down any of them, but he severely doubted it. Will was untrusting of people on the best of days, he was unlikely to seek out human comforts if he couldn’t even remain comfortable in his own home.

Will knew he was getting into a good area to hide in when he started seeing factories. There was at least one that was dedicated to creating gravel, he supposed, but there were a few shipping yards out that far as well. He knew he was getting into town when he passed a tiny post office and gas station. He let the dogs out as he pumped gas. While he had forgotten his phone, his wallet had been tucked into the back pocket of his only pair of jeans that still fit, and he was grateful for it. He went inside to pee and pay, since the pumps were old, and didn’t have a credit/debit slot. The young man behind the counter’s eyes were bleary as Will walked in and paid for his gas. The scent of weed was strong on him, and while he would honestly love to partake to calm his nerves, the strength of the stench nearly knocked him off balance.

He couldn’t believe that when he glanced at the time, he’d been driving for three hours already, and Hannibal was sure to be home soon. At the first thought of Hannibal, he felt eyes on him once again, the stag standing in the middle of the road, watching silently as he called his dogs and scrambled into the truck. His belly bumped the steering wheel again as he got in, and as soon as that sound had rung out, the stag was running closer, slamming the full weight of its body against the back of the truck.

Will didn’t feel the truck move, but the sound of the truck and stag colliding shocked him and he peeled out, thankful that his dogs were as trained as they were. They had trouble finding their footing as Will’s tires skidded on the road, but once he was driving solidly again, they settled the same way they had before.

Hannibal knew that as he approached the same milestones Will had that he was getting closer to where Will was hiding. Will might have the advantage of time, but Hannibal’s car was newer, he didn’t need to stop at the gas station for gas, but he did, to top off his tank and also to talk to the young man who reeked of marijuana, stale clothes and cheap soap who had been playing on his phone. “Did a young pregnant man come in here earlier? He had a lot of dogs, he possibly might have been acting a little… odd?” He asked as the man went through the steps of paying using Hannibal’s card. Hannibal made a little note to sterilize it later.

The young man made a valiant effort to tear his eyes away from his phone, but left the screen on as he spoke, “Yeah. Fer sure.” He nodded, dark hair swaying as he did so and handed Hannibal the receipt and went back to his phone, scrolling through some entirely blue page, eyes locked on whatever he was staring at.

While he’d been hoping for more information, the young man didn’t divulge anything further. “Thank you, then.” Hannibal said, regretting pulling over. He’d known Will had been there because he’d known how much gas Will’s truck had had, how much gas it burned, and how long it took to burn that gas. The young man’s rudeness hadn’t been worth the miniscule information he’d given.

Regardless, Hannibal left without purchasing anything more. He found himself hoping Will had bought something to eat in the gas station, despite knowing nothing in there would be up to his standards, at the least it would be something to fill him and the baby up.

Unfortunately for Hannibal, as he was hoping this, Will was devouring half of a pizza in a hotel room. It was off the main strip, inside of Banff, had a beautiful view and while it wasn’t dog friendly, the room he was in was on the bottom floor, and he had got the dogs inside the room before parking his truck around the back of the building and ordering the pizza. The windows were covered, his truck was locked, his keys and wallet were safe inside the latched, deadbolted and chained door. He kept the lights off, and brought his dogs’ food into the room. Everything that he had in that room was all he needed for the night.

If he woke up again, panicked and screaming, he could pack everything up again and leave. He would be safe.

As he finished half of the pizza, not having realized how starving he’d been, he laid on his side, digesting as the baby kicked and rolled inside of him. It still felt weird, knowing that there was a real, live creature growing inside him, feeding on everything he ate. “H-hi baby.” He mumbled, placing a hand where the baby had last kicked.

They’d been keeping the gender a secret, not that the fetus minded. All he could hear in the room was the hum of the AC and the panting of his dogs, most asleep but a few watching him when they heard him speak.

Up until now, Will had mainly ignored the infant, telling Hannibal when it kicked, but never touching the area himself. It felt wrong, alien, and yet, now that he was alone, with no other companionship other than his dogs and the baby, he tried. He tried to make it feel normal. This was his child. His baby. He was growing it. It shared his and Hannibal’s DNA. Hannibal wanted the baby, wanted to have a real family with Will.

“What do you think, huh? What do you think of being born? Having Hannibal and I as parents? I think it’s scary; I mean, Christ. I ran from the house because of a stupid dream man who I  _ know _ can’t hurt me, but…” He sighed, feeling the baby kick closer to his elbow. “I know it was stupid, but it feels nice to be out of the house. I don’t go anywhere anymore. Your father wants me to be a good little house husband and grow you and maybe siblings… but your Dad has a secret. He’s all pretty and poised and groomed and all that crap, but he’s fucked up… majorly fucked up. He’s a cannibal. That means he eats people. He feeds me people, us… he does it for attention. He loves attention.” The baby kicked again. “I guess you do too, huh?”

The dogs that had been watching him let their heads sink back to the floor, realizing he wasn’t talking to or about them. He chuckled, making a mental note to feed them in a few minutes.

“He tells you all the time about how wanted you are… and you are, by him. He thinks we can really pull off this whole parenting thing. He had a sister he practically raised… I had another kid, Walter. He wasn’t mine, but I helped raise him. He was a good boy. He listened real well, was real sweet, good with the dogs. He reminded me of me when I was his age. I don’t know how you’re gonna listen, but I hope you’re more like me than your dad.” Tears leaked from Will’s eyes as he put his hand under his shirt, rubbing his smooth skin, feeling the baby kick after. “I want your life to be easy, easier than mine at least, but… I don’t know if it will be. Hannibal’s life wasn’t easy either, but he’s proud of himself, proud of his choices.”

The air conditioned air bit at the sensitive under of Will’s belly, so he moved under the covers. He hadn’t realized how much driving took it out of him until he was horizontal and still. The almost six hours of driving weighed heavily on his shoulders. He hadn’t driven in so long, and yet it had felt like no time at all had passed between when he’d left home and when he’d gotten to the hotel.

He remembered his note of having to feed the dogs, but he found himself snuggling into the covers and his heavy eyes closing. He didn’t feel too hot, didn’t feel too cold. His belly was full but not churning, on his right side so acid didn’t burn his throat, the sheets felt clean, freshly washed and refreshing against his skin. The dogs wouldn’t hate him if he took a short nap, would they? No, they understood. They all did.

Hannibal would understand too, once he caught up to Will. Will knew that Hannibal was definitely going to keep looking, knew he wasn’t going to stop until he had found Will and dragged him back home, but he knew he could help Hannibal understand, even if he was angry with Will for leaving and putting their baby in danger.

He had told Hannibal a pregnancy wouldn’t be a good idea, hadn’t he? He’d begged, cried, pleaded to be free of the creature growing inside him. Hadn’t his mental state declined enough for Hannibal to understand? Hannibal knew all about the inner workings of the human mind, why couldn’t he understand that Will was fragile without his medications? Why didn’t he understand that a baby just wasn’t worth it to him? Could Hannibal ever understand what Will went through during this pregnancy?

Or was this another way for Hannibal to keep control over Will, another way to keep Will in his arms, keep him from running away? Would this show Hannibal that Will could still run, or would Hannibal lord the fact that he’d found Will over him? Why were they still at this phase in the relationship anyway? They’d existed perfectly happily for a year. They were the sweet, sophisticated newlywed couple at Hannibal’s job. The poetic aristocrat who wove words in conversation just as beautifully as he did in the classroom and the farming fisherman who brought his haughty husband back down to earth with a humble but delicious meal. Why did they have to end up like this? Why did they have to go back to who they were before? Why did Hannibal have to be ten steps ahead of Will, nudging him in the direction he thought was best with no input from Will himself?

Hannibal’s pride, that was why. Hannibal wanted a child to mold, to create in his image, to shape and coddle another future murderer. He missed communing with other serial killers, missed prodding them in different directions and manipulating his pregnant, hormonal, withdrawing boyfriend and future father of his child hadn’t really packed the same punch, did it? Will wasn’t going to murder anyone, not now that he was so pregnant, so easy to catch, too tired and round to do much other than grow their baby and cry over horrible dreams he couldn’t bear repeating. Pinning a crime on Will wasn’t the same anymore, was it?

Tears oozed from Will’s eyes, burning as they streaked down his face. He hadn’t wanted this. He hadn’t wanted to worry about a child that could be just like him, could face the same painful difficulties, shared the same empathetic curse. He had never wanted to worry about a child of Hannibal’s, especially if it took after him the way he knew Hannibal wanted it to.

Anxiety twisted in his stomach, making it impossible to nap, so he stood and fed the dogs. He knew enough Celsius by now that when he turned on the television, he understood that it was going to get down into the single digits that night, despite the fact that it was summer. He hoped Hannibal had put away the birds, though he knew that he hadn’t. Hannibal never cared for the animals more than feeding them every once in a while.

That was another reason why Will hadn’t wanted a baby. Hannibal hated mess, hated disorder. That was all that children were. They screamed, they cried, they needed everything to be given to them, and Hannibal didn’t  _ like _ that. Hannibal would probably refuse to take care of their child, trapping Will with the responsibility. Will had told him, he wasn’t ready, and Hannibal hadn’t cared. Did Hannibal really care about him, or did he only care about the opportunities that their pairing created? Was that why Hannibal had wanted him? He was young enough to bear a child and naive enough to believe that Hannibal would want to raise it with him?

He wasn’t naive. He knew exactly what Hannibal was, he thought of things in ways Hannibal could not, that was one of the things that Hannibal had loved about him, but now chose to ignore. It hurt. The tears had not stopped oozing, and now he turned back to the pizza to stuff another slice into his mouth because that was all he could think to do. He was hiding from his fiance, hiding from the man he loved, hiding from a dream that he knew didn’t exist and couldn’t hurt him but followed him around as if he was a beacon for all things related to serial killers. All for an infant he had never wanted.

His free hand had never left his belly, angrily rubbing and squeezing his new flesh. He wanted the baby out, he didn’t want it inside him anymore. He wanted his body to feel like his own again, he wanted his life to go back to normal, he wanted to feel normal. He wanted to remember how it felt to be in bed with Hannibal without his stomach getting in the way. He wanted to remember how Hannibal’s hand felt as it rubbed all his beard hairs around while they kissed. He wanted to feel the way he had before the pregnancy; annoyed but charmed with Hannibal’s knowledge and prowess, loving the way Hannibal had loved him.

With a baby, that all changed. They hadn’t had enough time together. He hadn’t felt loved long enough. He hadn’t been comfortable long enough. Hannibal might’ve been ready, but Will hadn’t been. He’d wanted just a little bit more of Hannibal, all to himself.

It reminded him of Molly, and how even though he’d gotten almost three years with her, it still hadn’t been enough. It hadn’t been enough time with Walter. It had never been enough time with Abigail. He had never had enough time with the people he loved before something happened to them. Molly and Walter were dead, Abigail was dead. Hannibal was alive but their relationship was suffering because Will was suffering. He hadn’t been ready for a change.

The tears continued to stream, continued to burn, until his chest heaved, aching with the motion, and his eyes stung, from the salt of his tears, the heat of them or the relentless scrubbing of his hands, he wasn’t sure. His stomach was past too full and he was in a complete state of discomfort and pain. Two dogs hopped up onto the bed, knowing they weren’t allowed, but unable to ignore their owner in pain. Once two hopped up, the rest of the pack followed, completely surrounding Will with their comforting dog scent, with the warmth of their fur and the gentle movements they gave as they came over to lick him, distracted by his tears, until all traces of salt were gone. They continued to take turns licking his chin until he fell back onto the bed and the amorphous blob of canine comfort converged around him, licking a few more times and laying on top of him, carefully avoiding where his stomach stood straight up.

It was hard to cry when a forty pound Border Collie spread across your chest and several pit bulls and other mixes lay across your legs and arms. He was grateful to have them this time, grateful that they loved him enough to soothe him with their pressure. It helped ground him, the same way fingering the collie’s soft ear had in his old home over a year ago.

As he calmed, he found his eyes growing heavy again. He shifted back onto his right side, upsetting a few pups in the process, but they adjusted easily, happy enough to still be allowed onto the bed. A yawn built up and released and he settled into the mattress, covering up once again with the comforter and top sheet, until he finally, finally fell back asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember, kids, communication is important. Will and Hannibal have a nice healthy slice of communication pie in the hotel. Out of all of these, I feel like Hannibal is most out of character in this one, as is Will, but I don't know, y'all tell me.

Hannibal had known that no one at any front desk was going to give him information. They often dealt with victims of sexual and physical assault, there were certain questions they would not answer. He knew what he looked like, no matter what he said. He could look as innocent as a newborn lamb and the personnel would never answer whether or not a pregnant man was staying there.

Regardless of this drawback, he went to all hotels that allowed dogs and knocked on every exposed door, apologizing for knocking on the incorrect room, feigning stupidity, like he was unsure of which room he was actually supposed to be in.

Once he had done that, he went inside, asking to use the restroom. He loved the people of Canada, how secure they were. They allowed him to go right into the bathroom, with no suspicious looks thrown his way. He freshened up and rinsed his face before going inside and searching out as many rooms as he could.

He looked through the two hotels this way, and decided that it was time to start looking for another gas station. Not for his car, but to see if Will had stopped in. None of the other gas station attendants had been as rude as the first one, so he enjoyed speaking to them much more. The last one that he spoke to, as he tried to hide his annoyance, said that yes, he had seen a pregnant young man with curly hair and a bunch of dogs. He even told Hannibal that he’d given the young man a hotel recommendation, since he seemed to be tired, and his own husband had been pregnant the year before, so he knew how important and difficult sleep was to get. “The place isn’t fancy,” He said, writing the address down for Hannibal, “But it’s real nice when you need somewhere to hunker down.”

Hannibal nodded and gave him a careful smile as he took the slip of paper. “Thank you so much. You’ve no idea how much this helps.”

`~`

_ Will heard the knocks on his door, and told the dogs to hush before any of them barked. He’d been jolted out of his nap, but he still thought he recognized the heavy hand knocking on the door. _

_ When he opened it, Hobbs’ decomposing body stood there, rasping out a laugh as it fell forward, forcing Will to catch it. The scent that filled his nostrils made him gag. As he caught Hobbs’ body, however, the weight changed in his arms, and he felt blood bubble and pour down the front of his abdomen. “Will,” Abigail croaked, her hands scrabbling toward her throat, making him almost drop her. _

_ He felt his knees and arms start to tremble, staring straight into the girl’s beautiful blue eyes, watching the skin under her freckles pale with the loss of blood, seeing everything in perfect time now that he was lucid enough to catch it. Her scarf caught some of the thick rivulets, but it still poured, still trickled sickly on the concrete. She got heavier as he held her, until it was Molly looking at him, begging him silently to save her and Walter, Dollarhyde’s final victims. Molly grew too heavy for him to hold and as her head hit the concrete, cracking on the pavement, blood lazily trickling from the wound. She then transformed into Walter, who crawled, dragging his head across the pavement, leaving a partially clear patch through the pool that Abigail had left behind, the hole in his head seeming to have stopped bleeding on its own, while blood seeped from the long black split that went all the way up the side of his head. _

_ “Dad…” Walter rasped, grabbing his ankle fiercely. Will jumped back, tripping and falling onto his ass and Walter dropped his ankle. Wally’s blue eyes bore into Will’s as he bled out from the crack in his skull that his mother had given him, adding to Abigail’s pool. He heard the death rattle come from his son but turned away, unable to watch. _

_ Will scrambled back into the safety of the hotel room, wondering where his pups were, until he found a warm, damp patch of carpet under his palm. He turned, the light of the open door illuminating the pile of bodies his pack was. They bled from their mouths as their heads tilted in unnatural positions. He looked back and forth from his pack and his son, both starting to decay right before his eyes, flesh melting into sludge, bones peaking through the dissolving skin, brown and greasy. Louder than the grotesque plopping of the skin sloughing off the dead bodies, he heard the familiar clack of the stag’s hooves just past his son’s dead, decaying form. _

_ What entered the room, however, was not the stag, but Hannibal, wearing a suit, a tie, seeming his completely calm self… adorned with antlers that somehow fit through the narrow hotel door and large hooves that made the clacking sound as he approached. _

_ Will felt himself shaking, crying with fear and shaking with pain as Hannibal walked slowly closer, the expression on his face one of pity, but his eyes also crinkled with the same amusement he got from watching rude people die. He grabbed Will’s face, forcing him to face him and stare deep, deep into his golden eyes. His grip caused more and more pressure on Will’s jaw as he pulled him closer, as if going for a kiss. _

_ Then, in a flash of movement, Hannibal’s mouth opened impossibly wide, swallowing Will whole. _

`~`

Will jolted up in bed, somehow able to move the mass on his belly as he flung himself from the damp bed. The dogs that he hadn’t disturbed looked up at him and wagged their tails expectantly. He panted, sweat coated body shivering as he stood in the cool room. The dogs that he had disturbed looked at him slightly hurt, as if not believing their leader would do such a terrible thing.

Seeing them alive and happy, well, for the most part, helped lower his heart rate. He sat back down on the bed, turning on the light to see that there was no puddle of blood leading out the door of the room. There were no dead dogs piled up in the bathroom area, no rotten flesh, not so much as a fly. The door was still as closed and locked as he could possibly get it. He was safe.

He was in the middle of washing his face when there was a knock on the door. He swallowed hard and looked through the peephole, seeing Hannibal standing right outside the door, too close to tell if he wore the stag’s fearsome antlers.

The second knock on the door caused the dogs to start barking. Will yelped and shushed them, only to hear Hannibal clear his throat and say, “Will, they do not allow dogs at this hotel… you may want to open the door.”

Will cleared his throat and unlocked the door, opening it just a crack to see Hannibal standing there in the dark, as prim and proper as ever, missing the antlers that he had been so worried about. “Oh thank goodness, it is you.” Hannibal sounded relieved, but didn’t take a single step forward, clearly wanting to make it Will’s choice to let him in.

“Y-yeah, it is.” Will managed to stutter out. “I’m alright, Hannibal. I had dinner.”

Hannibal’s lips quirked into a smile before anything else on his face changed. His shoulders dropped and his eyes crinkled at the edges, the expression more fond than amused. “You’ve not eaten anything else today, have you?”

Will shook his head, feeling his curls bounce against his face as he did so. “I was a little busy.”

Hannibal let out a little laugh. “Yes, I do suppose you were. Would you be so kind as to let me in? It is getting cold out here.”

Will stepped back and let Hannibal enter. He surveyed the room, looking at the box of pizza on the little table and sighed, suddenly looking years past his age. “Is there any left in there?”

He felt his mind scramble itself. Hannibal never wanted pizza unless it was artisanal, hand made with only the finest, most expensive basil, tomato and mozzarella available. He nodded and opened it as the door swung shut on its own. “It’s not fancy. It’s just… what I was craving.” He explained, swallowing the spit that had gathered in his mouth.

“That’s perfectly fine, Will. I am hungry as well. A beggar cannot choose, can he?” Hannibal took a slice and chewed, shivering with either pleasure or disgust as the greasy slice crossed Hannibal’s tongue and slid down his throat.

The flavor profile was fine. Too much cheap cheese, not enough tomato, no flavor to the crust, in this pizza, but it would suffice as a quick meal.

“So… this is what you crave away from home, then?” He asked, tossing the tasteless crust to the border collie.

“Sometimes,” Will mumbled, head ducking down, staring directly at his chest. “I miss simple food sometimes, so I can never tell if it’s the baby or if it’s just me being hungry.”

Hannibal nodded and patted the collie’s head. “I understand.”

“It’s got nothing to do with how good your food is, though.” Will said, getting the words out as quickly as he could. “I just… didn’t grow up with sophisticated choices. I grew up eating what I could make.”

Hannibal watched Will, not missing the way water dripped down his face. “I see. Is that why you ask for ramen and cold cuts?” Will was shivering, slightly, and his hands didn’t seem to know what to do with themselves. Hannibal wanted to curl up around him, shield him from the world, shield him from those lonely childhood memories.

It was Will’s turn to nod. A sad little smile graced his lips as he glanced up at Hannibal and looked right away, as if surprised he’d been looking. “It’s not much, but sometimes it just feels like home.”

Hannibal wanted to ask so many questions, wanted to pry the answers from the man before him, his beloved fiance, but realized Will might be in too fragile a state. He looked the same way he did a year ago, sweaty and panicked from the horrors his mind produced, before he’d adjusted to their life, before he’d adjusted to Hannibal’s love. Actually, somehow he looked worse, looked more haunted. His skin had a pallor he’d never had before, and somehow despite the baby weight, his cheeks looked gaunt, especially without his stubble. 

“I’ve been having nightmares.” Will croaked, as if the admission truly pained him. “Bad ones, about us, about the baby. I don’t know what to do at this point. I can’t sleep. I’m afraid to sleep. I wake up in bed, sure, but they’re not… they’re scary. I hate it. I’m so  _ tired _ .” His voice broke and he seemed to break with it, tears tumbling down his smooth face.

Hannibal sat next to him on the bed and wrapped long, strong arms around him. He pressed his lips to Will’s temple and snuck a hand under Will’s soaked shirt to rub his lower back.

The warmth of Hannibal’s hand startled Will, and he found himself crumpling into Hannibal’s grasp, sobbing as he felt the warmth Hannibal radiated seep into his freezing cold body. He shook harder, the contrast between their temperatures being a shock and a comfort as they sat together on the bed. “I’m sorry for running.” Will mumbled through his shivers.

“I forgive you,” Hannibal said, hands rubbing Will’s skin, feeling goosebumps spread over his flesh. “Tell me about your dreams, Will. Let me carry some of your burden.”

“They’re… terrible. The stag is always here, watching, waiting, trying to kill me, fuck me, I don’t know what it wants me to do.” He had told Hannibal a few times about the stag that had followed him relentlessly before Molly, before Hannibal had gone to the hospital, but had never told him that it sometimes took Hannibal’s form.

This time, though, everything came out; the fact that the stag often took Hannibal’s form, the fact that the stag had been his baby, the fact that it had killed him in his dreams, so, so often. “In fact,” He mumbled, reluctant but realizing Hannibal had to know. Hannibal would know what to do. “It looks like you sometimes. It takes your form. The dream I just had… Abigail, my dogs, Molly and Wally, they all rotted in this room. The stag ate me at the end, and it looked  _ just fucking like you _ . I don’t know what to do, Hannibal, I don’t want this anymore.”

Hannibal nodded. He understood, now, that Will’s anxieties, while they did not have any basis in reality, they affected Will’s reality. He’d known this before, obviously, but knowing it and understanding it were two different things for the doctor. “I suppose we should have found a pregnancy safe alternative for your medications.”

A pained, incredulous laugh wrenched its way out of Will’s chest. “It’s too late for that, Hannibal. I dream every time I fall asleep. It’s only a matter of time before I start sleep-walking again. I thought being away from home might help, but it didn’t. I need to sleep, Hannibal, I need to sleep before I do something stupid. It’s getting to the point where I can barely distinguish dreams from the waking world.”

Will didn’t elaborate on what that stupid thing would be, but Hannibal had some ideas of what they might be. “What do you suggest, then?”

Another sob shuddered its way though Will. “I don’t know! I don’t know.” He repeated that he didn’t know until Hannibal lay him down in the bed, covering them both with the comforter. He brought Will as close as he could, not caring that he could see dog fur flying through the air, landing on him, resting on his hair, entangling itself in the fibres of his suit. He could worry about that later.

“Relax, darling, relax. I am right here. You don’t have to sleep, just rest here with me.” Hannibal realized numbly that he had pushed Will too far. He probably should have listened when Will had voiced his concerns.

It was difficult for Hannibal to concede that he had done the wrong thing, but Will had changed him, hadn’t he? “I should not have pushed you to keep this child.” He admitted, hand resting lightly on Will’s bump. “I was selfish. I am selfish. I still want this child, but I should have listened to your concerns at least. I thought I knew best… it seems as though I was wrong.”

The baby kicked Hannibal’s hand, and he couldn’t help the fond look that overcame his face. Despite all of Will’s worries, the side effects and the pain he was going through, Hannibal still knew that they would be perfect parents for the little creature they had created.

“We had a talk,” Will said, seeing the expression that had crossed Hannibal’s face, “it’s like you already. Needs all my attention, needs me to praise it.”

Hannibal rolled his eyes but laughed by exhaling through his nose. “One of my few flaws,” he smirked, moving his hand and feeling the baby kick with his movements.

“Few?” Will squealed when he felt Hannibal pinch the sensitive skin where his bump met the rest of his torso, near his underbelly.

“Yes, dear Will, few. Unless you’d like to help me count them.”

“Oh don’t mind if I do! You’re stubborn, you always think you know best. Your confidence borders on smugness  _ way _ too often to be sexy-,” Hannibal pressed his lips to Will’s, shutting him up and feeling him melt into the contact.

“At least I do that.” Hannibal said, smirk returning to his face when they separated, proud of the wide eyed, dazzled expression Will wore.

“Oh, your  _ pride _ , too.”

“You little-,”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go home and Will basks in softness he doesn't usually allow himself. This makes Hannibal frisky, and then he gives Will a back rub better than the sex they had.

They left in the morning, at the same time. Will had finally gotten a good night’s sleep, cuddled up after a vigorous teasing session, where Hannibal had teased and tickled him into submission and then got him off, attempting both times to make eye contact with a messy, moaning Will but chuckling around his dick at the fact that he could see nothing around his baby, and then forgetting that fact after getting Will hard again. He’d managed to come both times, and when he’d offered to get Hannibal off, he had refused, saying that he was more than happy to serve Will once more.

It was the first time in a while that Will didn’t feel the weight of his secrets on his shoulders, only the weight of the baby on his gut. He felt light, as if he’d shed the weight of the stag in one night. Of course, it still peered at him from around trees and the sides of buildings, but it seemed to be intimidated by the real Hannibal standing next to him, protecting him from his nightmares.

On the drive home, Hannibal allowed Will to take up the lead, slowing when he slowed, stopping when he stopped. It wasn’t often that Hannibal gave up control like this, and Will knew that he would much rather take the lead, have Will in his car and tow the trucks and the dogs back later, but he conceded control, at least for one day more.

When they reached the house, Will was excited to see his animals, check on them, make sure they had made it through the night. They’d been fine, but Hannibal had to place a gentle hand on Will’s back to make sure he went into the house and took a shower, getting out of the clothes he’d lived in for over two days.

The shower felt amazing, the warmth cut through the chill that had been following him since he’d left and replaced his shivers of fear with trembles of pleasure, especially as he scrubbed his greasy curls with shampoo. Gliding the bar of soap over his body made the grime of his sweat slide right off. He imagined it was the blood that Abigail’s throat had spilled on him in his latest dream, watching as the crust rehydrated and slowly trickled down the drain.

He stayed in the shower, rubbing his skin with a soapy washcloth until the water ran clear, and the hot water ran cool and almost came as a shock to his bright red skin.

Touching his belly had made him nervous, but apparently the creature was asleep, for it didn’t even tumble at Will’s touch. For now, it felt like his belly was nothing more than just that, a belly, not home to a growing fetus, not an incubator for the stag’s offspring, just his belly.

Will rarely appreciated Hannibal’s expensive tastes and propriety, usually finding them excessive and sometimes silly, but now he did, being wrapped in a huge, down-soft towel that he would almost mistake for a blanket if not for the creative weave of the thing. It felt nice to be cocooned inside something created for comfort and style rather than function, and with the new weightlessness he felt, he could really cherish the feeling of luxury he was surrounded by.

Not wanting to give up the comfort he had surrounded himself in just yet, he dressed in the pajama set Hannibal had gotten him for his birthday the year before. The flannel was soft, thick enough to keep any cold out, but worn enough to be the familiar type of comfortable, like a meal that only a deceased loved one would be able to cook perfectly. Due to his new size in front, he had to leave it open around his belly, but he solved that by putting on a tank top underneath.

Speaking of food, when he emerged from his room, he smelled Hannibal cooking something he hadn’t had in a long time. “While it is not something I have enjoyed since I was a child, I supposed that the least I could do was cook you something simple and familiar.”

On the plate, smothered in rich red-orange tomato sauce, sat spaghetti and meatballs, something Will could only remember coming from a can. Molly had only cooked it a few times, and her meatballs had come from a freezer bag. Not to say there was anything wrong with that, but there was just something about knowing that Hannibal had hand shaped the meatballs, determined what the ratio between beef and pork was, or whatever meats he was using. Will knew Hannibal had made the tomato sauce previously, but it smelled better, more herbaceous and just a little sweeter and meatier than it had before.

Will couldn’t keep the grin off his face. He knew he would eventually have to get back to the fact that he was an adult man, carrying the unborn baby of a mass murderer and serial killer, but for now, he could live in this soft world Hannibal was allowing him to heal in. Hannibal handed the plate to Will and joined him at the table soon after.

“So Will,” Hannibal said as he had just taken a big bite of spaghetti, chewing and letting the flavors intermingle on his tongue. “I have been thinking.”

“Always dangerous,” Will said after swallowing. “What’ve you been thinking about?”

“How to make you feel better about our child.” Hannibal, ever the gentleman, twisted the noodles against a spoon and placed a small bite into his mouth, chewing and swallowing before continuing. “It may be for the best if we allow the child to reach Walter’s age before we lead it any sort of way. We do not have to raise it as if it is the child of two men of above average intelligence and notoriety. It is still a child, it will be a child for a long time.”

Will speared a meatball and placed it in his mouth, thinking. That would be best. The kid would be loved, certainly, if they were allowed to treat it like a child, not an apprentice. It would have a better childhood than either of them, absolutely. “What would we do for the child’s education?”

“While I abhor the idea of public schooling, it may be for the best, until we see what the child is like. Raise it like any other child and once it starts to show its true nature, then we can educate it privately if we need to.” Hannibal took a sip of a sweet, acidic Zinfandel, letting it clear his palate and dabbing at the corners of his mouth with a napkin as he did so. “There will be no talk of hunting, unless it is for actual big game, such as deer or elk, and I will allow you to teach the child how to do that. That is a promise.”

Will swallowed the remains of the meatball and nodded. His hand had found its way to the baby bump again and started to rub gently. “That sounds perfect, Hannibal. Genuinely. I know that’s not what you want-,”

“What I want and what is good for the baby are mutually exclusive. I have a tendency to ignore others’ suggestions, especially if I believe my own opinions to be superior. However, Will, I am realizing that I need to learn to concede, especially if I am going to be a parent, and your husband.” Hannibal made strong eye contact with Will, wanting him to understand that it wasn’t exactly what he wanted, he would much rather raise the child he believed to be the correct way, but for the sake of Will’s safety and the safety of their infant, he could, at the very least, relent and be patient for a short few years.

Will held his gaze and nodded as he did. “Thank you.” He knew a gift when he saw one, especially when it came from Hannibal. This would be a difficult gift, and there were sure to be repercussions for it, whether they be a few more bodies in the freezer, or a more public string of murders, he wasn’t sure. There was always a give and take with Hannibal, and this was a particularly difficult give.

The effect was immediate. The deep breath Will took seemed to relax him, fully, for the first time in months, certainly since he’d found out he was pregnant. Will tucked into his food more eagerly than before, seeming to realize the conversation was over. He finished the whole plate and asked for more, genuinely seeming to enjoy himself. Will happily took his prenatal vitamins with dinner, instead of as an afterthought before he went to bed.

Hannibal had guessed early on that Will had been worried about how he would treat a child, as well as other worries about their collective attitudes. It wasn’t as though he was particularly known for his nurturing spirit. However, he could nurture, could help a child grow. He knew how to behave around children, even if he hadn’t been around one for a while. Besides, it was his offspring, it wasn’t as though he was trying to impress other parents with how good he was around children.

The fact that he had managed to restore Will’s trust in him was more important than any other factor, and he relished in the way Will smiled at him, shy and grateful.

As Will walked to the second bedroom, he couldn’t keep his hand off his stomach, feeling full and content, feeling the baby lazily stretch and tumble about. He took a quick pit stop to pee, and then took a look at his phone, which still sat on the charger. He had a few missed calls from Alana, and he shot her a text back, saying he would explain tomorrow.

_ You don’t get to disappear and not tell me what happened. Nice try. _

Will rolled his eyes and smiled at the little blue screen.  _ I had a moment. We’re fine, all of us. _

_ What kind of moment? _

Will relented and called her, “A moment where I left the house and forgot my phone.”

“Oh thank goodness, it is you.” Alana breathed a sigh of relief, which made Will laugh to himself, almost imagining he was right there alongside her. “I was a little worried Hannibal had done something to you.”

“He brought me back, Alana, that’s all.” She smiled, relaxing against her counter, where she’d been rinsing dishes before placing them into the dishwasher. Will sounded a little better, sounded just a tinge happier, but it had always been hard to tell.

“You left the house?” She teased, wishing she had a picture of Will, rounded out and pregnant. He’d said previously that he was carrying heavily in the front, but she just couldn’t imagine it. “I’m teasing, but really? You left without Hannibal? Where did you go?”

He reluctantly told her the whole story, leaving out, of course, that they’d had sex in that hotel room, but he included the stag, which he’d only told her about in bits in pieces, never having let her know that it followed him into the waking world more and more as long as he was off his new medications. She was silent, just letting him talk, he hoped, until he was finally done explaining the dream, stumbling over his words as he talked about the people he’d loved, especially Wally and his dogs. He even told her about the way their bodies had decayed right in front of him.

“Those… sound terrible, Will.” She wasn’t sure what else to say. As a professional, she knew this was a severe reaction to being off Will’s medications, but as a friend, she wasn’t sure what else she could add. “I’m glad you’re back home and safe, though.”

Forgetting she couldn’t see him, forgetting he wasn’t actually in the kitchen with her, Will nodded. “Yeah… it wasn’t great, but Hannibal is actually going to let us raise this baby as normally as we can. I still have plenty of anxieties about it, but he’s promised to not treat the baby like one of his serial killers. It’s not as much as I want, but I know that alone is going to be tough for Hannibal, once the baby is here full time.”

“What about you? Have you discussed whether or not you’re going to breastfeed? If you do, you’ll need to stay off your medications longer.” She had breastfed as long as she could with Morgan, and knew it might be a little more difficult for Will, especially with the things he was already experiencing.

“I… was hoping for formula, but knowing Hannibal, he’ll push for breastfeeding… he’s going to start looking for some medications that will be safe for the baby, so I hope he finds something.” Truthfully, Will had been focused on getting through the pregnancy, and hadn’t given a single thought to actually giving birth or the feeding process. Being pregnant was hard enough, and now that he was so late in the game, it was almost time for him to start worrying about raising the actual child itself.

She couldn’t hear a change over the phone, but knew Will was off in his own world, thinking and worrying about what was to come. “Will, come back to me. Let’s talk some more, about something else. How did the dogs like being away from the farm?”

The longer he talked about his dogs, the calmer he felt. He told her that his collie had checked up on the poultry and goats herself, seeming to take stock and round them up so she could do so. She hadn’t seemed perturbed so he knew everything was okay. “I’m thinking about getting a Pyrenees, though. They’re excellent flock protectors.”

Alana laughed, then, really laughed. “You mean add another pup to your pack? You think Hannibal will go for that, when you’ve already got a whole pack of dogs already?”

“He’ll like this one, they’re supposed to stay outside, with the herd. They have super dense fur, and they’re white, so if I ever want to get sheep, they’ll blend right in.” She could imagine him, eyes crinkled at the sides, such a sweet, thoughtful smile planted there as he looked toward the ceiling, the way he often had when he was thinking of pleasant things.

They talked about sweeter things until Hannibal showed up in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically relaxed as he watched Will talk to his friend. While he didn’t approve of her, it was clearly good for him to have some conversations outside of their relationship. To his surprise though, the conversation seemed to be coming to an end, as Will gave one last laugh, proclaimed that he loved Alana, and hung up the phone.

He expected to feel jealousy or possessively at the words, but he did not. He only felt fondness creep across his chest as he watched Will place his phone on his knee and look up at him. He looked so sweet there, curls long and wild from air drying after his earlier shower, dressed in forest green plaid flannel that Hannibal had picked out, even if it had to remain open around his swollen stomach. He so loved when Will wore the things he picked out for him, finding it not only an immense turn on when he actually chose the things Hannibal had picked, but also incredibly lovely and sweet, almost sexy in its domesticity. “Hey, Han. Are we ready for bed?”

Hannibal felt the fondness grow a smile on his face as he looked at Will sitting there. “Yes, darling, we are.” They so rarely used pet names that each time they did, it felt foreign, but here, in the safety and softness of their home and the environment they’d made after the frightening disappearance, it felt right.

He wanted Will to know just how much he adored him, feeling the urge because of the sweetness the atmosphere allowed. Despite the fact that he’d gotten Will off earlier that morning, he wondered if he’d be up for another round, something slow and sweet, so he could show Will just how much he was loved.

Will laughed once they got to their bedroom, just a tinge surprised at the way Hannibal seemed to wrap around him, both protective and provocative, hinting at the desire for something more than mere cuddling. Will decided to drag it out of Hannibal, liking to have him say exactly what he wanted and how he wanted it. He didn’t like guessing, despite being good at it by now. Surprise of all surprises, Hannibal could sometimes be a touch shy with how he approached him, always self-assured but not always knowing that Will would reciprocate.

“Awful close here, Han.” He chuckled and looked up at Hannibal, who was carefully wrapped around his pregnant belly, lithe body nimble and flexible, despite his age. “One might think you’ve got something naughty on the mind.”

Hannibal laughed at him and brought up the hem of his pajama top and the tank top underneath. He rubbed at the stretchmarks that littered the underside of Will’s belly and made his way up to the small, sensitive breasts that grew as the child did. “It is rare that I do not have something naughty on the mind, especially being around you this way. I did not expect to be so taken with the way you looked pregnant. I thought it would be cute, yes, but not as sexually appealing as I find it now.”

Will placed his hand over Hannibal’s, prompting Hannibal to look up, and their eyes to meet. “You gotta pregnancy kink, Han?” He couldn’t help the small smile that dimpled his cheeks and scrunched his eyes, just a touch. “You think all this is sexy?”

Hannibal laughed too, glancing away from Will’s face to look for any changes that he may have neglected to catalogue. “I do. I have always found you incredibly sexually appealing, Will. May I show you just how appealing you are?”

For all of Hannibal’s faults, and he had a few, he was not a selfish lover, when he didn’t want to be. He was considerate of the things Will found sexy, made sure Will was enjoying himself, above all else, but this was more about showing Will that Hannibal himself still found him sexy, still wanted him. Will knew, of course, because why else would Hannibal chase him, but it was always one thing to know and another to be told, and yet another still to be shown, especially so intimately.

Hannibal had always bordered on worshipping Will’s belly, and Will had always figured that was because that was his baby in there, his child, his spawn, his design. In part, he was correct, but Hannibal also loved that Will was strong enough to bear his child, to create something with him and to hold it so obviously, showing the world, attracting the attention of everyone around him, giving Hannibal the chance to swoop in and show off his pride, to show everyone in the room without uttering a single word that this man and this child within him was  _ his _ and no one else’s.

He went on to worship Will’s beautiful body, rubbing his belly with his hands and busying his lips with Will’s neck, leaving another deep purple mark, claiming him. As the baby started to twist and turn, Hannibal left the area behind, moving up to his little breasts and then taking one into his mouth.

Will’s chest had never been sensitive before, but now that it was budding, growing, they consistently bordered on ache and pain. With Hannibal’s ministrations, however, they went beyond pain and stretch marks, went beyond the painful little buds that had started jiggling when he walked. They felt  _ good _ , being gently sucked on, being laved with Hannibal’s expert tongue, taking him in and tasting every square inch of him. His nipples hardened and his back arched, his dick responding to the attention being paid to his chest just as enthusiastically.

Hannibal looked at Will with a smirk, noting that his face was red and mouth cocked open in a perfect little ‘o’. He let out a shuddering moan as Hannibal just breathed on the sensitive little nubs, the temperature being stimulating and painful as his nipple hardened further from the cold. He gave the bud a little nip, hard enough to stimulate but not hard enough to cause real pain.

A true shudder went through Will, especially when Hannibal’s warm, soft hand snaked its way under the waistband of his flannel pants and grabbed hold of his cock and squeezed the base. His own cock ground into the side of Will’s thigh, through his pants, the precome that dribbled out soaked into the fabric, making it rough against his tender skin.

They both let out their own moans, the hormones of pregnancy definitely lending Will a hand. His whole body seemed ultra sensitive, intensely warm and the differing temperatures on the different parts of his prone, goosebumped body, despite the fact that he’d come twice already that morning.

Hannibal continued kissing, sucking, making marks, drawing attention to areas where he previously hadn’t. The sculpted line of Will’s jaw may have been hidden under the tiniest pad of fat, and his perky little breasts may be taking the place of his thin chest, but they were delicious in their own right, clean from Will’s shower, clean shaven, a completely different texture than they had previously been. Delectable.

He prepared Will, grabbing the lube from the bedside table and stretching him easily. He was already loosened, probably due to arousal, but Hannibal still teased, still brought sweet little groans from Will’s parted lips. Once Hannibal felt Will was ready enough, he slipped himself inside, taking just a moment to settle, to really enjoy the feel of Will, warm and slick around his shaft. Will trembled, the changes in pressure causing them both to moan.

Hannibal set the rhythm, slow and soft, adoring and teasing all in one. Though they were both used to much harder paces, much rougher sex in general, they both had to admit it was nice to be soft, vanilla, scratching an itch rather than putting too many repressed emotions behind it, without too much force.

Hannibal came first, just by watching Will come into his own sense of ecstasy. Will followed not long after, the feeling of Hannibal filling him up again causing his orgasm.

They lay in bed for a long time afterward, basking in the afterglow of their orgasms, and feeling the familiarity that was their partner, Hannibal taking the time to map out all of the changes in Will’s physique and exactly what changes those made in his breath and his recovery time.

Will had a harder time catching his breath on his back so he shifted to the side, sighing at the feeling of the baby being supported by the bed. “Han… do you mind rubbing my back?”

He smiled and propped himself up, looking at Will from behind. From behind, you’d never guess that Will was pregnant. “Of course not.”

As soon as Hannibal’s hands, warm and still slick, started gliding along his tense muscles, Will found himself gasping and moaning all over again. Hannibal laughed at him. “It’s not my fault your baby is huge.” He tutted, feeling the aching knots in his back slowly unravel and loosen up. “I’m carrying totally in front, Hannibal. Imagine a watermelon sitting on your belly.”

“I am not laughing at you.” He responded, laughing again as Will groaned and tensed under his grasp, little twitches going through his body as he slowly, slowly loosened. “I am laughing at the fact that you are moaning more enthusiastically for a back rub than when we  _ just _ had sex.”

“Maybe that’s because this backrub is better than sex.” Will shot back, feeling a satisfied smirk settle onto his own face. “This is a damn good backrub.”

“Language around the baby, Will. I’ll not have a child who speaks like a sailor.” The light admonishment was coupled with a light squeeze of Will’s hip. He was getting a little fleshier there as well, and Hannibal couldn’t help but feel fondness for it. While he usually despised extra mass, as it felt disrespectful to the body, this was different. Will was putting on this weight for their baby, and it wasn’t as though it was much weight anyway. It was endearing rather than disrespectful and he soothed the area he pinched, going lower to pinch Will’s admittedly chunkier ass instead.

They slipped into a comfortable silence, aside from Will’s occasional gasp or moan, the longer the massage went on. It was nice to get back to this level of comfort, Hannibal mused, watching as his ministrations caused little movements under Will’s skin. He could get used to this type of manipulation, he supposed, if he was still allowed to follow his passions.

Will smiled, warm and sleepy under the glow of orgasm and a damn good back rub. “Hannibal… Can we look for a baby safe sleeping aid? I’ve gone as long as I can, and as amazing as this was, I don’t think we can solve my dream problems with a shower, sex and a back rub, as amazing as it all was.”

Hannibal nodded. “I think that would be for the best. I’ve heard that melatonin is good for sleep, but we’ll see about the effects it has on those who are pregnant.”

Will nodded, then, knowing Hannibal appreciated the choice of being allowed to control this. “Honestly, as long as it helps me sleep.”

`~`

_ Will dropped the ice bucket and turned to run. He didn’t think the stag would find him this quickly, didn’t think he would just show up. _

_ He’d been staying with Alana and Margot, in a hotel that was definitely not the same colors and layout as the one in The Shining. He yelped for help, but no sound came out. He was so slow… so awfully, dreadfully slow. _

_ His pregnant belly bounced hard in front of him, and he almost threw up from the impact. He turned, running into an open door and flinging himself inside. _

_ He was in the stairwell, not much better but at least he could take up time by running down them. He did exactly that, running down as quickly as he could, hearing the door to the stairwell slam open on the landing he’d just left. _

_ Will couldn’t hear any footsteps, but he knew the creature had to be gaining on him. He couldn’t look back, so he just opened a door two floors down and sprinted in as quickly as he could. He held his pregnant belly, noticing he was on the floor with the kitchen. He slid on the slick floor but managed to hide inside the door before hearing the door he’d run through slam open once again. _

_ He tried to hide his panting, but he knew it was futile. It had known how to find him without being able to hear him, it was going to be able to find him in this building. _

_ True to Will’s fears, it opened the door to the kitchen, walking calmly inside, speaking in a voice that was one singular voice and also thousands of almost-familiar voices, saying, “You cannot hide from me, Will.” _

_ He shook with the fear of having to wait for it to stumble upon him. He had run the best way he could, and it hadn’t been enough. It felt like he’d been running for years at this point, he was so tired, so ready to give up. _

_ Instead, he crawled, trying to stay quiet, trying to sneak out the door he’d come in, or maybe lock it in the freezer somehow. He knew that wouldn’t work, though. It was smart, too smart for him to trick that way. _

_ He managed to crack the door open and crawl out it, thinking he was clear until he felt its breath, so cold it burned, on his ear. He shrieked, falling to his ass, covering his head with his arms. _

_ The stag didn’t touch him, just walked around to the front of him and watched as he cowered. “This is not the Will I know.” Each voice, he could pick out. Verger, Hobbs, everyone that had ever terrorized him, including schoolyard bullies. There was one voice he couldn’t pick out, but he didn’t dwell, didn’t have time to. _

_ He looked up, and it wore Hannibal’s face once again. It held nothing but contempt for him as it stared at him. “You’ve chased me everywhere. What do you want?” _

_ “You.” It wanted to consume him, he knew that. “I’ve only ever wanted you. Only ever chased you, tasted you. I want you.” Despite the contempt apparent on its face, its eyes still held the yearning expression Hannibal had given him so many times throughout their relationship. _

_ “But you don’t want me like this?” Will asked, getting to his feet, feeling a small stab of bravery, as it hadn’t yet tried to touch him. “What do you mean?” _

_ “Cowardly. Weak. This is not my Will. Do not hide from me. I want you to embrace me. Love me. You cannot do that now, as you are.” It yearned for him, and yet it was disgusted by the sight of him. Sounded about right. _

_ “Leave me alone.” Will begged as he shakily stood. “Let me sleep.” _

_ “I cannot. I need you.” It held the same yearning that felt like a dull burn in its light brown eyes as Will looked at it, staring it down as best he could.  _

_ Will couldn’t help it. He was tired of running. He pushed the stag, surprised that its body gave under his shove. It moved backwards slightly at the touch. “I will follow you, Will. I need you and only you.” Will shoved it again, and when it moved forward, he shoved again. _

_ “Get away from me!” He yelled, shoving and shoving, trying to get it away from him. It wasn’t until it tried grabbing his arms that he slammed it with the side of his pregnant belly. Unlike when he was running, this felt good, powerful, cathartic, especially because it seemed like the stag hadn’t been expecting it and was knocked off its feet. The stag fell and Will started to run again, this time towards the lobby. _

_ He would be free soon, he knew. It didn’t want to hurt him, not really. It just wanted him to do its bidding, to give in, to unquestionably do what it asked, and he would never do that, no matter how tightly it held onto its hope. So he ran, out the lobby and onto the road, in a scene similar to the one in Forrest Gump, when he was running down that dusty road by himself, his gaggle of followers not too far behind. _

_ When he checked, there was no one behind him, no one in front of him. He just kept going, kept running, until his feet were no longer on the ground, but in the sky, taking him far, far away from the stag and its terrestrial tie. _


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tenth and final chapter! The baby's coming! Is it a boy or a girl?

Will’s pregnancy only got harder from there. He was on a new sleeping aid, one that the doctor assured Hannibal would cause nothing bad to happen to the baby, especially this late in the pregnancy. It helped him sleep, which they were both grateful for, and it definitely helped when it came to the nightmares.

They had eased, somewhat, retaining their frequency, but decreasing in urgency, no longer causing Will to wake up in pools of his own sweat.

While that problem had been solved, there was no pregnancy safe alternative to his other meds, the ones that kept the stag at bay in the waking world. It still followed, but with hours of good sleep, he was no longer frightened of it. It surprised him every once in a while, but it did not terrify or stalk him as it once had. He’d had a few moments, though, where the fright from seeing the creature had resulted in Will pissing himself. They’d shared a laugh over it, but the farther into Will’s pregnancy they got, the less funny it was.

Will had a great deal more stretchmarks, his skin was a bright pink, bordering on strawberry red, all the time. The only exception to the redness was his scar, which stayed a sickly pale white color, in contrast to the angry red surrounding it. The more gravid he became, the more his skin itched and the less he could move around, his back spasming in pain whenever he so much as tried. All animal chores had shifted to Hannibal, with Will watching carefully over, finally being the one to boss Hannibal around.

As fun as that was, he couldn’t wait for his ninth and final month. Every day he got closer to his due date was a blessing. The baby was constantly moving, now, constantly trying to make more room in Will’s limited abdomen. It was sure to come soon.

Hannibal was excited to see their baby, and if Will’s poor stomach was any indication, the baby would be huge, strong, the same way he had been when he was born.

More than anything, Will hoped the child looked like Hannibal and had his own temperament. It would be easiest to keep the child safe and unknowing of its fathers habits if it lacked Hannibal’s undying thirst for knowledge, especially knowledge he shouldn’t know.

Besides, it would be cute to have a little Hannibal clone running around. Will had never seen a picture of Hannibal as a child, he doubted a baby picture of Hannibal existed, but he had to have been cute.

Hannibal knew, of course, that he had been an awkward looking child, this side of too-thin, long-limbed, knobby joints, mouth too large for his face and eyes much too serious for that of a child’s. He hadn’t been bullied, private tutors, but his father always made sure he had never allowed himself to become too proud of his appearance. His father had been an abusive, angry man, whereas Hannibal was not. He had his issues, but at the very least, he did not explode with rage the way his own father had.

He was hoping the child would look more like Will, and yes, sure, he hoped the child would have his same curiosity, but if the child was just a little copy of Will all around, he would never be upset with having a second Will, especially so young. Will had stated that he hadn’t remembered a lot of his childhood, and Hannibal had the idea that seeing a miniature version of himself grow from a sweet, beloved child into a beloved, respected adult may allow his inner child to heal. Not that he knew anything about inner children or child psychology. It was just a term he’d heard.

Will was doing better psychologically, but physically, he was ruined. He could barely walk, let alone take care of his animals. It wasn’t ideal, but to his credit, once he felt he was no longer able to care for them properly, Hannibal had stepped up and hired someone to care for the animals while Will was incapacitated.

At his last appointment with his OBGYN, Will had been advised to walk more, to stimulate labor. He had tried to explain that his back hurt too much to walk much, his doctor simply smiled at him knowingly. “I understand, Will, but it’ll help more than you think.”

He made the effort, shuffling around their house, until late one night… it happened. His water broke and they had to rush him to the hospital. Will insisted on taking his truck, since he didn’t really care if fluid got in it or not. Hannibal had protested, saying his car was better on gas, but one well-placed groan got Hannibal moving.

Will sent a text to Alana, telling her everything, and Hannibal was uncharacteristically worried, though Will was the only one who could tell. His eyes could hardly keep their focus on the road and his hands tightened around the wheel, as if they longed to hold Will’s and rub his belly one last time.

Alana called, talking him through the harder parts, ignoring Will every time he asked what time it was in North Carolina. She joked, kept his mind off of what was happening while Hannibal drove the long hours to the hospital.

“Hadn’t you suggested getting a hotel room, Hannibal?” She asked while on speaker, one of the few times she had acknowledged him. “And what did stubborn Will say? ‘No, no, it’s fine, my due date’s days away!’ Well what did I tell you? Babies don’t care about due dates!” They shared a tense laugh at her teasing. “You’ll be fine, Will. Just breathe through it.”

“As much as I appreciate the sentiment, please don’t tell me to fucking breathe.” Will groaned and smacked Hannibal’s arm when he took his eyes off the road.

The rest of the ride was much of the same. He was glad he could talk to Alana, glad she understood what was happening, at least for the most part. If he’d had only Hannibal to talk to the whole time he didn’t think he could make it. Hannibal had a terrible habit of needing to speak when he was worried, and Will didn’t think he quite had the stamina to calm himself, keep the baby in long enough to get to the hospital and soothe a worried Hannibal.

For someone so good under pressure, the idea of having his own child there, on the highway while he drove, terrified him. The lack of control over the situation made everything so much worse. He  _ had _ suggested getting a hotel a few days ago, in fact, but Will had argued against it due to the cost, as if that mattered when it came to the birth of their child! Oh he could kill him if his hands weren’t focused on driving!

They got to the hospital with a few hours to spare. Alana had hung up, to let the doctors take over, and within a few short hours, their child was there, in perfect health and beautiful to her two fathers.

To be completely frank, newborns all look like potatoes, so Will waited a few hours after holding his daughter to send any pictures to Alana. Her skin had calmed down, was less red, and she was sleeping and eating, attached to Will’s nipple and eating hungrily. She had attached easily and eagerly, showing herself to be Hannibal’s child, through and through.

Her mouth was large, and her hair was straight as straw. Will couldn’t keep himself from rubbing the soft little patch of dark hair as the baby suckled. She was incredibly cute, and he couldn’t believe she had been so energetic while in utero, she was so good and quiet for him. Granted, he had to admit, being born was hard work on both their ends.

Hannibal had nothing but pride for his daughter, especially when Will allowed him to hold her. She was most definitely his, looked enough like him that he could understand Will’s desire for her to look like him. He smiled and laughed as she threw her angry little fists around, face screwed up in tiny anger, mewling, wanting to be back in Will’s arms, her lips suckling his nipple.

“She has my fine tastes,” Hannibal whispered as he handed her back, making Will roll his eyes as she settled into his arms, seeking his nipple immediately.

“You’re gross,” he couldn’t help but smile, though, and laugh at Hannibal, whose eyes were locked onto their daughter.

This… was good, Will decided. It would be good. They were good. They were going to be okay, they could be parents. They would make it at least until she was old enough to walk. They’d learn more about her as she got older, her personality started showing for real. She, and they would be fine until then.


End file.
